ALVMNW  BOOK  FVND 


' 


YOUNGSTERS 


"I'M  A  PIRATED 


YOUNGSTERS 

COLLECTED  POEMS  OF  CHILDHOOD 


BURGES  JOHNSON 

jj 

ILLUSTRATED 


ROLLIN,    CRAMPTON 


NEW  YORK 

E.P.DUTTON  &  COMPANY 
681  FIFTH  AVENUE 


Copyright,  1921 
By  E.  P.  BUTTON  &  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


FOREWORD 

THESE  rhymes  make  no  pretense  of  consistency, 
or  of  theories  about  childhood.  They  are  mostly 
bits  of  recollection,  and  records  of  experience,  per- 
sonal or  vicarious.  A  great  number  of  them  have 
appeared  before  in  "Pleasant  Tragedies  of  Child- 
hood, "  in  "Rhymes  of  Little  Boys"  and  companion 
volumes  now  out  of  print.  There  is  no  scheme  of 
arrangement,  except  that  some  grown-up  verses  about 
childhood  are  brought  together,  and  others  having 
to  do  with  babyhood  are  grouped  near  the  end. 
Thanks  are  due  the  publishers  of  Harper's  Maga- 
zine, Everybody's,  Life,  Pictorial  Review  and  other 
friends,  for  permissions  to  reprint. 

B.J. 

Poughkeepsie,  New  York. 


Q 
O 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

WHAT'S  THE  USE? 3 

BEING  GOOD 5 

DISPROVED 6 

A  REGGERLER  WRIGGLER 7 

LOSTED 8 

RUNNING  AWAY  FROM  HOME n 

WHEN  I  GET  INTO  BED 12 

WHAT  PUZZLES  ME 14 

THE  MONARCH 16 

SUPPLANTED 18 

SPRING  TONICS 19 

STRATEGIC 20 

GRACE 21 

'MEMBER? 22 

EXCUSES 26 

GOOD  HUNTING 27 

A  DIFFERENCE 29 

IN  THE  SWING 30 

No  TRAVELER 31 

WAS  You  EVER  SPANKED? 32 

THE  ANXIOUS  FARMER 33 

WISDOM 35 

Cows 36 

THE  PUPPY  CLASS 37 

WITH  SISTER'S  DOLLS 38 

THE  DOG'S  TURN 40 

THE  EAVESDROPPER 42 

MY  LITTLE  DOG  AND  ME 43 

PUTTING  DOLLY  TO  BED 44 

DUTY  CALL 45 

PRAYERS 46 

b 


x  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  FABLE 47 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  AND  A  PUSSY  CAT 48 

MOTHER'S  DAY  OUT 50 

BEDTIME  STORIES 51 

TEA-PARTIES 52 

CHRISTMAS  MORNING 53 

THE  CHERUB 54 

FICKLE 55 

CLOCKS 56 

AMBITION 57 

RESPONSIBILITIES 58 

SOAP  BUBBLES 59 

A  MOTHER'S  HOPES 60 

IRONING  DAY 61 

INCORRIGIBLE 62 

TAKING  BROTHER'S  PICTURE 63 

THE  FISHERMAN 64 

THE  OCCASIONAL  ANGUISH  OF  BEDTIME 65 

EVENING  IN  THE  PANTRY 66 

His  FIRST  AFFAIR 69 

A  RAINY  PICNIC  DAY 70 

PLAYING  DOCTOR 71 

THE  RIDER 72 

PLAYING  IN  THE  BARN 73 

OMNISCIENCE 74 

SPEAKING  THE  FIRST  PIECE 75 

SPRINKLING  THE  BABY 76 

MOTHER  WANTS  ME 77 

BALLADE  OF  THE  LITTLE  THINGS  THAT  COUNT 78 

ENVY 8e 

IN  SLUMBERLAND 81 

IN  WINTER  TIME 82 

WHERE  DREAMS  ARE  MADE 85 

THE  SPY 86 

PICTURE  BOOKS 87 

THE  TOY  SOLDIERS 88 

THE  WEATHER  MAN  . .                                                           89 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAGE 

THE  PLAYMATE 90 

BABY  JOHN 91 

THE  FIRST  HAIR  CUT 93 

COIN'  BAREFOOT 96 

COOKIN'  THINGS 99 

INTERRUPTING 101 

BEIN'  SICK 103 

GETTIN'  WELL 105 

SOAP,  THE  OPPRESSOR 107 

BED-TIME 109 

SUPERSTISHUS in 

BABIES 113 

ILLOGICAL 114 

THE  BUTTERFLY 115 

RAIN-CHARM 116 

APPLE-PIE 117 

IN  THE  STUDY 119 

KETCHIN'  RIDES 120 

SYMPATHETIC 122 

IN  THE  MORNING 126 

'F  I  WAS  ER  HORSE! 127 

SPECIAL  WORDS 128 

AN  IMAGINING 129 

MY  SORE  THUMB 130 

AT  THE  Zoo 132 

MAKIN'  THINGS 136 

A  RECOLLECTION 139 

THE  FIRST  VALENTINE 140 

COUGHS 141 

NURSES 143 

RUNNED  AWAY 144 

GETTIN'  WASHED ,  145 

THE  FLY  IN  THE  OINTMENT 147 

WHEN  DADDY  SINGS 149 

PIRATE'S  CAVE 150 

DAYTIME  NAPS 151 

TOP-TIME.  .                                                                    153 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 
KlTE-TlME 154 

BALL-TIME •. 155 

SwiMMIN'-TlME 156 

NUTTIN'-TlME 157 

SNOWBALL  TIME 158 

THE  SCAPE  GOAT ...'... 161 

THE  WIND 162 

PRAYER  FOR  A  LITTLE  BOY 163 

THE  CAGED  COCKATOO '.  164 

THINGS  THAT  GET  LOST 165 

VACATION  IN  THE  COUNTRY 166 

BUILDIN'  FERES 168 

REJECTED 171 

OUR  GANG 172 

SEWIN'  BUTTONS  ON 175 

DRESSIN'  UP. 177 

"HEAR  MY  DOLLIES'  PRAYER" 178 

ANTHROPOLOGY 179 

THE  MISSIONARY'S  DAUGHTER 180 

MENDING  DAY 181 

AT  THE  AQUARIUM ' 182 

THE  ASSISTANT 184 

UNREST 185 

DANDELION 186 

HANGING  THE  STOCKINGS 187 

EVENINGS 189 

ECONOMISIN' 191 

AFTER  SCHOOL 193 

A  NEWSBOY'S  PLAINT 198 

AMBROSIA 202 

SCEPTICS 203 

THOSE  WILFUL  TOYS 205 

ACCOUNTING  OF  STOCK 206 

A  TOAST 208 

AMBUSHED 209 

THE  POOH-POOH  BIRD 210 

SPIRITS...  212 


CONTENTS  xiii 

PAGE 

OLD  VALENTINES 214 

AN  OLD  CHRISTMAS  CAROL 215 

WHEN  THE  CHILD  is  KING 216 

SANTA  CLAUS 217 

FATHER  SPEAKS 219 

A  MILK  TOAST 221 

A  RONDEAU  OF  BABIES 222 

THE  WORLD  is  so  SMALL 223 

AFRAID 224 

NAMING  HIM 225 

THE  INTERPRETER 226 

A  BUSY  MORNING 227 

HER  GIFT 229 

FORTIFIED 230 

A  BABY  AT  THE  PARTY 232 

BABY'S  FIRST  CHRISTMAS 233 

WHEN  GRANDMA  COMES 234 

BOOKS 235 

THE  LONELY  BABY 236 

INCONSISTENT 237 

FIRST  STEPS 238 

BABY'S  EYES 239 

A  LULLABY 241 

AT  ONE  WEEK  OLD 243 

UNFULFILMENT , 244 

THEN  AND  Now 246 

"LITTLE  BOY  REALM" " 247 

REVISITING 249 


YOUNGSTERS 


Slim  woodland  faun  who  stands  upon  the  brink 

Of  that  cool,  unforgotten  swimming-hole, 
While  spying,  leaf-checked  sunbeams  seem  to  wink 

A  sly  condonement  of  the  hours  you  stole 
From  cramping  seat  and  unrelenting  book 

In  yon  slave-laden  galley  known  as  school; 
I  note  one  backward,  gay,  defiant  look 

And  then  your  shout  ends  gurgling  in  the  pool. 

I  see  you,  boy,  and  standing  closely  by 

I  see  a  figure  that  you  did  not  see — 
A  sprite  with  wind-blown  hair  and  dancing  eye, 

Who  leaped  with  you  and  laughed  to  find  you  free. 
And  while  your  gay  companions,  Wind  and  Sun, 

Tousled  your  hair  or  peppered  all  your  face 
With  tell-tale  freckles  when  the  game  was  done, 

The  sprite  was  near  you  in  that  grassy  place. 

Though  you  may  leave  me,  lad  I  cherish  so, 

I  bear  no  grudge  because  you  draw  away, 
Save  that  you  lure  her  with  you  as  you  go, 

That  mate  you  never  saw,  whose  name  was  Play. 
I  know  her  now.    Sometimes  her  laughing  eyes 

Shine  kindly  at  me  as  she  dances  past. 
No  painted  jade  may  trick  me  in  her  guise, 

My  heart  so  holds  her  image  true  and  fast. 

Departing  boy,  who  trod  that  grassy  place 

Beside  your  well-remembered  Lethe's  pool 
Which  splashed  so  gaily  when  its  glad  embrace 

Drowned  every  glooming  thought  of  books  and  school, 
I'll  let  you  go  ungrudging.    Years  unfold 

Full  compensations;  dear  lad,  go  your  way, 
If  you  II  but  leave  me  some  small  rightful  hold 

On  that  gay  sprite  of  yours  whose  name  is  Play. 


WHAT'S    THE    USE? 

What's  the  use  o'  growin'  up? 

You  can't  paddle  with  yer  toes 
In  a  puddle — you  can't  yell 
When  yer  feelin'  extra  well — 

Why  every  feller  knows 
A  grown-up  can't  let  loose. 
I  don't  want  to  be  no  older — 
What's  the  use? 

What's  the  use  o'  growin'  up  ? 

When  I'm  big  I  don't  suppose 
Explorin'  would  be  right 
In  a  neighbor's  field  at  night — 

I  won't  like  to  get  my  clo'se 
All  watermelon  juice. 
I  don't  want  to  be  no  older — 
What's  the  use? 

What's  the  use  o'  growin'  up  ? 

You  couldn't  ride  the  cow, 
An'  the  rabbits  an'  the  pig 
Don't  like  you  'cause  yer  big, 

I'm  comfortublest  now — 
P'r'aps  I  am  a  goose. 

3 


WHAT'S   THE    USE? 

I  don't  want  to  be  no  older — 
What's  the  use? 

What's  the  use  o'  growin'  up? 

When  yer  growed,  why  every  day 
You  just  have  to  be  one  thing. 
I'm  a  pirate,  er  a  king, 

Er  a  cowboy — I  can  play 
That  I'm  anything  I  choose. 
I  don't  want  to  be  no  older — • 
What's  the  use? 


BEING    GOOD 

What  's  the  use  of  being  good? 

It  aint  really  any  fun ; 
And  there  's  no  one  ever  knows, 
'Cept  my  conscience,  I  suppose, 
All  the  noble  deeds  I  done ; 
And  I  feel  so  like  a  sham. 
I  don't  want  to  be  no  gooder 
Than  I  am. 

What 's  the  use  of  being  good? 

If  they  notice  it  at  all 
They  just  pat  me  on  the  head, 
Or  they  show  me  off,  instead; 
And  the  folks  that  come  to  call 

Say  "How  cute!"  and  "Little  lamb!" 
I  don't  want  to  be  no  gooder 
Than  I  am. 

What 's  the  use  of  being  good? 

All  the  fun  's  the  other  way — 
All  the  mischief  and  the  noise 
And  the  pranks  with  other  boys — 
All  the  goodies  hid  away, 

And  your  fingers  in  the  jam! 
I  don't  want  to  be  no  gooder 
Than  I  am. 


DISPROVED 

People  tell  me  I  must  do 
All  the  growing  that  I  can; 

For  they  say  I'll  soon  be  through — 
I  won't  grow  when  I'm  a  man. 

That  is  why  I'm  fed  so  much 
Nasty  stuff  to  make  me  grow, 

Tapioca,  squash  and  such; 
But  I  don't  believe  it's  so ! 

Daddy's  old.    He  won't  be  fed 
Things  for  which  he  doesn't  care. 

Yet  I  notice  that  his  head 

Keeps  on  growing  through  his  hair. 
6 


A   REGGERLER   WRIGGLER 

When  you  was  as  little  as  me,  did  you  care 

If  they  made  you  stand  still  while  they  fooled  with 

your  hair, 
And  combed  it  and  brushed  it  and  told  you  "There, 

there!"? 
Nurse  says,  when  she  lays  down  the  comb  with  a 

slam, 
I'm  a  reggerler  wriggler, — maybe  I  am. 

When  I'm  doing  my  lessons  or  eating  my  meals 
I  have  to  be  still  as  a  mouse,  till  it  feels 
As  if  I  must  pound  on  the  floor  with  my  heels. 
At  church  it  is  awful, — the  folks  all  declare 
I'm  a  reggerler  wriggler  while  I  am  there. 

It  is  n't  so  easy,  this  trying  to  keep 

Quite  still  in  the  daytime, — it  hurts  me  a  heap. 

And  they  seem  to  forget  that  I'm  still  when  I  sleep. 

I  think  little  boys  who  sit  still  are  a  sham ; 

I'm  a  reggerler  wriggler,  that's  what  /  am! 


LOSTED 

I  feel  so  far  from  anywheres ! 

Perhaps  my  family 
Has  got  so  many  other  cares 

They've  all  forgotted  me. 
I  s'pose  I'll  starve  to  skin  an'  bone 
If  I  stay  losted  here  alone. 

My  little  dog,  he  founded  me, 
An'  wagged  his  tail  an'  whined, 

But  he  can't  lead  me  home,  for  he 
Is  taught  to  walk  behind. 

And  so  I'm  crying  yet,  becuz 

I'm  just  as  losted  as  I  was. 


RUNNING   AWAY    FROM   HOME 

I  was  so  certain  yesterday 

It  would  be  fun  to  run  away; 

It  never  once  occurred  to  me 

How  dreadful  lonesome  it  would  be. 

And  if  this  really  is  a  cow 

I'll  hurry  home  to  mother  now. 


ii 


WHEN    I    GET    INTO    BED 

I'm  never  frightened  in  the  dark, 

Though  I  am  very  small ; 

I  never  sit  all  scared  and  hark 

For  Ogres  in  the  hall. 

But  when  my  prayers  are  said 

I  have  one  awful  dread, 

That  something  waits  to  grab  my  toes 

When  I  get  into  bed! 

I  try  to  think  of  pleasant  things 
Each  time  I  get  undressed; 
And  how  each  day  no  evil  brings 
If  children  do  their  best. 
12 


WHEN    I    GET    INTO    BED  13 

But  the  thought  comes  in  my  head, 
As  I'm  turning  down  the  spread, 
That  something's  going  to  grab  my  toes 
As  I  get  into  bed. 

And  when  there  's  nothing  more  to  do, 

With  bedclothes  open  wide, 

It  makes  me  shiver  through  and  through 

A-trying  to  decide 

Which  foot  shall  go  ahead, 

'Cause  I'm  sure  I'd  tumble  dead 

If  something  ever  grabbed  my  toes 

As  I  get  into  bed. 


WHAT   PUZZLES    ME 

There's  something  I'm  awfully  anxious  to  know, 

I  think  it's  important  as  it  can  be — 

S'pose  it  had  happened  beforehand  so 

That  I  was  somebody  else  but  me? 

Then  some  other  boy  would  be  your  little  boy, 

An'  love  you  more  than  a  tongue-can-tell ; 

I  wonder  would  he  be  his  mother's-joy, 

An'  smooth  her  headaches  to  make  them  well? 

— 'Cause  I  think  it's  funny  as  it  can  be, 

That  you  is  you,  an'  me  is  me. 

IVe  worried  and  bothered  for  most  a  day, 
'Termining  what  I  should  ever  do, 
If  things  were  arranged  in  a  different  way, 
An'  you  should  be  somebody  else  but  you. 
You'd  live  in  some  other  place  but  here — 
Far  away,  maybe — but  anyhow, 
I'm  perfectly  positive,  Mother  dear, 
I'd  love  you  'zactly  as  much  as  now. 
— But  I  think  it's  funny  as  it  can  be, 
That  you  is  you,  an'  me  is  me. 

If  you  was  somebody  else  but  you, 
P'r'aps  we'd  meet  in  the  street  some  day, 


WHAT   PUZZLES   ME  15 

An'  I'd  be  p'lite  an'  say  "Howdedo !" 
An'  "What  a  nice  little  boy!"  you'd  say. 
Then  we'd  walk  for  almost  a  block,  before 
I'd  tell  you  just  who  I  was — an'  then — 
You  wouldn't  be  somebody  else  anymore, 
An'  I'd  be  your  little  boy  again. 
— An*  I  think  it's  funny  as  it  can  be, 
That  you  is  you,  an*  me  is  me. 


THE    MONARCH 

I  am  lord  of  the  land  and  the  sea, 
I  am  king  of  the  jungle  and  cave; 

Wild  animals  cringe  at  my  knee, 

And  fish  at  my  word  swim  the  wave. 

I  fearlessly  crawl  'neath  the  bed, 
Where  teddy-bears  lurk  in  the  dark; 

Or  I  hunt  the  dim  closet  instead, 

Where  roam  all  the  beasts  of  the  ark. 

I  am  lord  of  the  sea  and  the  shore, 
On  carnage  I  gaze  unafraid; 

I  shrink  not  at  squeak  or  at  roar, — 
I  know  how  such  noises  are  made. 
16 


THE    MONARCH  17 

I  stride  through  my  nursery  domain, 
And  the  bathtubby  ocean  I  scan; 

While  faithfully  march  in  my  train 
Weird  creatures  of  cotton  and  bran. 


SUPPLANTED 

Seems  zif  everything  nice  is  done 

Just  for  that  newest  kid. 
Once,  when  I  was  the  youngest  one, 

I  never  got  spanked  or  chid. 
IVe  pricked  his  leg  with  a  pin,  for  fun,- 

I'm  awfully  glad  I  did ! 


18 


SPRING   TONICS 

I  love  it  when  the  folks  begin 
To  give  us  kids  our  medicine ; 
I've  tasted  lots  o'  things  that's  worse. 
I'm  oldest,  so  they  feed  me  first, 
An'  when  it  comes  their  turns  then  I 
Just  yell  an'  dance  an'  make  'em  cry! 


STRATEGIC 

Whenever  I  am  playing,  and  I  want  to  rest  a  bit, 
I  can't  lie  down  a  minute,  or  even  stop  to  sit, 

But  I  hear  a  Grown-up  say, 

"You're  tired  out  at  play! 

Come!     Lay  aside  your  little  toys, — they'll  do  an- 
other day." 

And  so  I  have  decided  that  I  really  can't  afford 
To  have  'em  find  me  resting  of  my  very  own  accord, 

'Cause  some  one  comes  along 

Who  says  uYou  are  not  strong, — 
You  had  n't  oughta  play  so  hard,  it  certainly  is 
wrong." 

That's  why  I  keep  a-skipping  and  a-running  in  and 

out 

Until  I'm  really  certain  that  no  Grown-ups  are  about; 
And  then  I  slip  away 
Just  a  minute  from  my  play, 

And  rest  as  hard  as  possible  to  last  me  through  the 
day. 


20 


GRACE 

Dear  Lord,  bless  my  bread  and  meat, 
And  everything  I  drink  and  eat, 
And  let  them  make  me  well  and  strong 
To  keep  from  ever  doing  wrong. 
I  thank  thee,  Lord,  each  day  again 
For  guarding  little  boys.    Amen. 


21 


'MEMBER? 

'Member,  awful  long  ago — 
Most  a  million  weeks  or  so — 
How  we  tried  to  run  away 
An'  was  gone  for  most  a  day? 
Your  Pa  found  us  both,  and  then 
Asked  if  we'd  be  bad  again, 
An'  we  promised,  by-um-by. 
Do  you  'member?    So  do  I. 

'Member  when  I  tried  to  crawl 
Through  that  hole  beneath  your  wall, 
An'  I  stuck  becuz  my  head 
Was  too  big?    Your  Mother  said, 
When  she  came  to  pull  me  through, 
S'prised  you  didn't  try  it  too. 
An'  you  did  it,  by-um-by. 
'Member?    Do  y'f    So  do  I. 

'Member  once,  when  you  an'  me 
Found  your  mother's  pantry  key? 
All  the  folks  stayed  out  till  late, 
An'  we  ate  an'  ate  an'  ate  I 


22 


'MEMBER?  25 

Ma  was  s'prised,  so  she  confessed, 
That  we  didn't  eat  the  rest. 
An'  we  did  it,  by-um-by. 
Course  you  'member?    So  do  I. 

'Member  when  your  Mother  said 
'At  she  wisht  I'd  run  an'  do 
All  the  mischief  in  my  head 
All  at  once  an'  get  it  through? 
S'pose  we  did,  why  maybe  then 
We  could  do  it  all  again! 
Guess  we  could  if  we  should  try. 
Willy'  sometime?    So'll  I. 


EXCUSES 

Sometimes  when  I'm  special  naughty 
In  some  bran'-new  way, 
An'  my  sister  an'  the  nurse 
Only  get  me  actin'  worse, 
Daddy's  told,  an'  when  I'm  caught,  he 
Asks  what  I've  to  say. 

Daddy  has  some  special  uses 
For  a  slipper  he 

Keeps  upon  his  study  shelf, 
So  I  start  to  'scuse  myself, 
An'  I  think  up  lots  of  'scuses 
Quickly  as  can  be ! 

Daddy  coughs,  an'  then  confesses 
That  sometimes  he  does 

P'raps  misjudge  me  by  mistake, 
Then  he  gives  my  hand  a  shake. 
(But  I  sometimes  think  he  guesses 
Just  how  bad  I  was !) 


GOOD    HUNTING 

Table-leg  Jungle  is  dark  and  still, 
There  's  snakes  in  the  Carpet  Glade, 

And  lions  and  tigers  on  Sofa  Hill, 
But  I'm  never  a  bit  afraid. 

My  dog,  I  know,  is  a  trusty  brute, 

And  I've  got  a  gun  that  '11  really  shoot. 


Once  there  was  Indians  under  the  bed, 

But  I  hunted  'em  all  away; 
There  's  elephants  hiding  there  now  instead — 

They're  perfectly  safe  to-day, 
'Cause  I'm  near  the  cavern  of  Easy-Chair, 
And  I  scent  the  track  of  a  Teddy  Bear ! 

27 


28  GOOD    HUNTING 

If  I  was  like  nurse  or  like  baby  Sis, 

What  never  has  fired  a  gun, 
I  guess  I  would  n't  be  brave  as  this ! 

They'd  both  of  'em  cry  and  run. 
But  I'll  stalk  him  down  and  I'll  shoot  him  through, 
And  I'll  make  him  into  a  Teddy-stew. 


A   DIFFERENCE 

Whenever  I  can't  go  to  sleep 

Though  I  have  said  my  prayers  and  all, 
Around  the  room  queer  noises  creep 
And  lights  and  shadows  dance  and  leap 

Above  me  on  the  wall. 

The  dark  gets  full  of  dreadful  things 

That  tiptoe  round  and  round  my  bed — 
I  hear  the  rustling  of  wings 
And  little  creaks  and  whisperings — 
I  dassent  turn  my  head. 

But  when  there  sounds  upon  the  stair 

My  mother's  footstep,  drawing  near, 
The  dark  just  turns  to  empty  air — 
And  all  around  there's  nothing  there 
To  cause  a  bit  of  fear. 

Then  I  imagine,  one  by  one, 

The  things  that  scare  me  most  of  all; 
They  make  the  little  shivers  run 
Along  my  back.    It's  lots  of  fun — 

While  mother's  in  the  hall! 


IN   THE    SWING 

I  love  to  swing  so  high,  so  high, 

That  all  the  world  is  turned  around; 

My  feet  are  standing  on  the  sky, 
And  far  above  me  is  the  ground. 

I  love  to  swing  so  high,  and  see 
The  leafy  boughs  go  rushing  by, 

And  view  the  world  beyond  the  tree, 
With  nothing  near  me  but  the  sky. 

Up,  up  I  go, — and  hardly  stir 
For  one  long  happy  second;  then 

With  a  delicious  rush  and  whirr 

The  world  turns  right  side  up  again. 


NO    TRAVELER 

I  'd  love  to  ride  on  railroads  every  day 

And  sit  up  by  the  window, — would  n't  you? 
To  watch  the  world  all  rush  the  other  way 
And  make  believe  where  it  is  running  to. 
But  once — it  was  n't  far — 
I  took  kitty  on  a  car, 

And  I  guess  there  's  lots  of  other  things  a  cat  Jd 
rather  do. 

A  kitty  does  n't  care  about  the  view, 

And  she  's  frightened  by  the  jiggle  of  the  floor; 
It  makes  you  feel  ashamed  to  have  her  mew, 
But  she's  stronger'n  she  ever  was  before ! 
Though  traveling  is  fun, 
With  almost  any  one, 
I  never  want  to  travel  with  a  kitty  any  more. 


WAS    YOU    EVER    SPANKED? 

Was  you  ever  spanked?    I  ain't  sorry  a  bit 
I  scratched  at  my  brother  an'  hollered  an'  spit. 
Then  they  pulled  me  away,  an'  I  kicked  an'  I  yanked. 
Was  you  ever  spanked? 

Was  you  ever  spanked?    The  times  I've  been  good, 
Why,  nobody's  cared,  an'  I  ain't  understood. 
If  I  die,  they  have  only  themselves  to  be  thanked! 
Was  you  ever  spanked? 


THE    ANXIOUS    FARMER 

It  was  awful  long  ago 

That  I  put  those  seeds  around; 
And  I  guess  I  ought  to  know 

When  I  stuck  'em  in  the  ground. 
'Cause  I  noted  down  the  day 

In  a  little  diary  book, — 
It  's  gotten  losted  somewheres  and 

I  don't  know  where  to  look. 

But  I  'm  certain  anyhow 

They  Ve  been  planted  most  a  week; 
And  it  must  be  time  by  now 

For  their  little  sprouts  to  peek. 
They  Ve  been  watered  every  day 

With  a  very  speshul  care, 
And  once  or  twice  I've  dug  'em  up 

To  see  if  they  was  there. 

33 


34  THE    ANXIOUS    FARMER 

I  fixed  the  dirt  in  humps 

Just  the  way  they  said  I  should; 
And  I  crumbled  all  the  lumps 

Just  as  finely  as  I  could. 
And  I  found  a  nangle-worm 

A-poking  up  his  head, — 
He  maybe  feeds  on  seeds  and  such, 

And  so  I  squushed  him  dead. 

A  seed  's  so  very  small, 

And  dirt  all  looks  the  same ; — 
How  can  they  know  at  all 

The  way  they  ought  to  aim  ? 
And  so  I  'm  waiting  round 

In  case  of  any  need; 
A  farmer  ought  to  do  his  best 

For  every  single  seed! 


WISDOM 

Often  when  I  wanter  talk,  grown-ups  say  I  ourghtn't, 
For  they  think  what  I  would  say  cannot  be  important. 
I  am  told  that  when  I'm  grown,  then  I  may  be  bolder, 
Wisdom  will  be  in  my  head  when  I've  gotten  older. 
Tell  me,  will  it,  when  it  comes,  set  my  head  a-hum- 

ming? 
But  I  mostly  want  to  know — will  I  feel  it  coming? 


.   35 


cows 

Who  's  afraid  of  a  cow? 

They  're  so  gentle  and  kind 

You  can  go  up  quite  close 

And  they  none  of  'em  mind; 

And  they  like  little  girls,  so  I  've  heard  people 

say— 
But  I  wish,  O  I  wish  they  was  further  away! 

Pooh — who  's  afraid? 

They  're  as  good  as  can  be, 

An'  one  's  a  child-cow  that  is  younger  than  me. 

They  give  us  good  milk — an'  there  's  nothing  to 

fear — 
But  I  wish,  O  I  wish  that  my  Daddy  was  here! 


36 


THE  PUPPY  CLASS 

I  tell  them  all  that  A  's  for  APPETITE 
And  B  's  a  BONE,  and  C  's  a  Pussy  CAT, 

And  though  they  do  not  pay  attention  quite 
The  way  they  should,  I  think  they  growled  at  that. 
They  Ve  been  to  school  all  day  there  on  the  mat, 
And  yet  they  will  not  learn  their  letters  right ; 

Their  little  tummies  are  so  very  fat 
I  fear  their  brains  are  crowded  just  a  mite. 

I  cannot  make  them  consecrate  their  thought, 
Not  even  though  I  scold  them  some,  and  frown. 

They  don't  get  half  the  discipline  they  ought, 
Their  eyes  are  so  affectionate  and  brown! 

I  don't  believe  that  scholars  can  be  taught 

Who  lick  your  face  and  bark  and  tumble  down. 


37 


WITH    SISTER'S  DOLLS 

Dolls  are  silly  things  to  play  with, 
There  's  so  much  a  boy  prefers; 

But  at  times  I  have  to  stay,  with 
Sister  when  she  tends  to  hers. 

And  besides  I  often  find  her, 

(For  you  know  how  young  she  isl) 

Needing  some  one  to  remind  her 
Of  her  'sponsibilities. 

Anne  and  Lucy,  Tot  and  Ted, 

Do  you  dollies  s'pose 
That  it 's  right  to  go  to  bed 

Wearing  all  your  clo'se? 
Your  Mamma  's  too  young,  I  s'pect, 
To  be  scolded  for  neglect! 

I  'm  a  year  and  one  month  older 

Than  my  sister  is,  and  she 
Can't  expect  (so  Mother  's  told  her) 

To  sit  up  as  late  as  me. 
So  each  night,  when  she  is  sleeping, 

It 's  my  duty  for  awhile 
Just  to  see  if  she  is  keeping 

All  her  dolls  in  proper  style. 
38 


WITH   SISTER'S   DOLLS  39 

Anne  and  Lucy,  Tot  and  Ted, 

Listen  here  to  me! 
Every  night  you  go  to  bed 

Wicked  as  can  be. 

Don't  you  s'pose  that  Someone  cares 
If  you  never  say  your  prayers? 


THE    DOG'S  TURN 

They  're  at  me  all  the  day, 

There  's  not  an  hour  between! 

I  have  no  time  for  play — 
I  think  they  're  very  mean. 

For  every  minute  's  taken  up  in  being  gotten 
clean. 

They  wash  and  clean  and  scrub, 

Although  I  Ve  clothes  to  wear; 
All  day  they  comb  and  rub, 

And  brush  my  teeth  and  hair. 
At  five  o'clock  I  have  a  bath  while  grown 
folks  come  and  stare. 
40 


THE    DOG'S    TURN  41 

Now,  Pete !    Don't  leave  this  spot 

Until  I  Ve  gotten  through. 
The  things  that  hurt  a  lot 

Are  what  is  best  for  you — 
I  guess  what  's  good  for  baby  boys  is  good 
for  doggies  too. 


THE  EAVESDROPPER 

If  little  boys  don't  hurry  off  to  bed 
On  Christmas  eve,  an'  try  to  go  sleep, 
But  stay  awake  an'  hide  around  an'  peep 
(Er  so  the  grown-up  folks  have  always  said), 

Then  Santa  Claus  '11  frown  an'  shake  his  head, 
An'  gather  all  their  presents  in  a  heap — • 
Espeshully  the  ones  they  'd  wanta  keep — 

An'  give  'em  all  to  other  boys  instead. 

But  every  year  I  Ve  wanted  so  to  see  I 
An'  maybe  he  '11  not  find  me  hiding  here. 

But  if  he  did,  an'  left  no  toys  for  me, 

I  'd  be  ez  glad  I  peeked — er  pretty  near. 

Unless  he  was  so  cross  that  maybe  he 

Would  take  away  the  things  he  left  last  year ! 


MY    LITTLE    DOG   AND    ME 

My  little  dog  knows  just  as  much 

As  lots  of  people  do. 
He  can't  do  sums,  er  three  times  three, 

Er  read  er  write  like  you  an'  me, — 
But  what  's  the  use  of  sums  an'  such 

I  never  really  knew. 

Of  course  he  ain't  a  cherabim, — 

He  's  playful  as  can  be ! 
He  don't  shut  doors  er  wipe  his  feet, 

An'  maybe  he  's  not  always  neat ; 
But  people  that  don't  care  fer  him 

Don't  hafter  care  fer  me. 


43 


PUTTING  DOLLY  TO  BED 

A  mother  has  so  many  cares 

There  's  little  time  to  play. 

She  's  combing  out  the  snarly  hairs, 

Or  darning  holes  or  mending  tears, 

Or  kissing  hurts  or  soothing  scares 

All  through  the  live-long  day. 

But  I  and  mother  often  say, 
Though  tiring  duties  heap 
Upon  our  shoulders  as  they  may, 
The  nicest  duty  of  the  day 
Is  when  we  Ve  put  the  toys  away 
And  rock  our  babes  to  sleep. 


44 


DUTY   CALL 

On  Sundays  I  jus'  love  to  dine 
With  Aunty  Jane  an'  Emeline, 
An'  stay  t*  hear  a  temp'rence  trac'. 
I  love  it,  'cause  when  I  get  back 
My  muvver  says,  "Poor  little  sweet ! 
An'  gives  me  heaps  o'  things  to  eat. 


43 


PRAYERS 

When  it  is  bedtime,  every  day, 
I  show  my  children  how  to  pray; 
I  never  scold  or  even  frown 
Whenever  any  tumble  down, 
But  I  am  patient  as  can  be 
And  make  them  copy  after  me. 
Their  prayers  are  very  short  indeed- 
There  is  so  little  that  they  need. 


A    FABLE 

Said  a  Little  Boy  to  a  Honey  Bee, 
"You'd  not  be  happy  if  you  was  me ! 

'Cause  /  don't  get  enough  time  to  play — 
I  can't  do  half  what  I  want,  all  day. 
You  stay  where  it's  sunny,  all  chock  full  of 

honey — 

It  must  be  funny  to  live  that  way. 
You  have  a  lot  better  time  than  me !" 
Said  the  Little  Boy  to  the  Honey  Bee. 

Said  the  Honey  Bee  to  the  Little  Boy, 
"Yes,  life  is  jolly  and  full  of  joy! 
I  hum  and  bumble  and  buzz  away, 
But  it's  mostly  work  and  it's  seldom  play, 
And,  rainy  or  sunny,  I  toiled  for  the  honey 
Which  you  '(how  funny!)  ate  up  to-day. 
I  don't  Know  why,  but  I  buzz  with  joy!" 
Said  the  Honey  Bee  to  the  Little  Boy. 


47 


A  LITTLE  GIRL  AND  A  PUSSY-CAT 


Said  a  little  girl  to  a  pussy-cat: 

"It  's  jolly  to  make  you  play! 
How  soft  you  purr  when  I  stroke  your  fur, 

And  your  claws  are  all  tucked  awayl 
I  love  you  ever  so  much  for  that/* 
Said  a  little  girl  to  a  pussy-cat. 

"But  oh,  there  's  a  terrible  thing  I  Ve  heard, 
That  brings  great  sorrow  to  me : 

You  killed  a  poor  little  baby  bird 
That  lived  in  our  apple-tree. 

You  can't  be  dear  to  me,  after  that," 

Said  a  little  girl  to  a  pussy-cat. 
48 


A  LITTLE  GIRL  AND  A  PUSSY-CAT  49 

"O  little  maid,"  said  the  pussy-cat, 
"You  are  gentle  and  kind,  they  say, 

To  bird  and  beast,  but  did  n't  you  feast 
On  chicken  for  lunch  to-day? 

And  are  n't  there  feathers  upon  your  hat, 

O  little  maid?"  said  the  pussy-cat. 

"Oh,  I  '11  be  I,  and  you  '11  be  you, 

As  long  as  this  world  shall  be. 
If  you  '11  be  as  good  as  you  can  for  you, 

I  '11  try  to  be  good  for  me. 
So  let  's  be  friends  and  agree  to  that, 
O  little  maid!"  said  the  pussy-cat. 


MOTHER'S    DAY    OUT 

When  I  was  quite  a  little  boy 
I  learned  to  put  myself  to  bed; 

I  put  away  each  book  and  toy, — 
'T  was  such  a  help,  my  mother  said. 

And  now  I  never  even  mind 

The  clothes  that  button  up  behind. 

Since  I  was  six  I  've  grown  so  large 
That  days  when  mother  needs  a  rest 

She  puts  small  sister  in  my  charge, 
And  I  can  get  her  all  undressed. 

I  even  hear  her  say  her  prayers, 

And  no  one  needs  to  come  upstairs. 

When  mother  has  a  lot  to  do 
On  any  morning,  if  I  choose 

Then  I  can  dress  my  sister,  too, 
And  even  button  up  her  shoes. 

I  'm  always  such  a  help,  you  see, 

My  mother  's  very  proud  of  me. 


BEDTIME    STORIES 

All  the  very  nicest  things 
In  the  stories  grandma  told, 
All  the  giant-killers  bold, 

All  the  fairy  folk  with  wings, 

Some  in  prose  and  some  in  rhyme, 
Happened  "Once-upon-a-time." 

And  I  wished  with  all  my  heart 

Once-upon-a-time  was  now! 

For  I  made  a  solemn  vow 
I  'd  have  taken  mighty  part 

In  those  deeds  of  prose  and  rhyme, 

Of  that  once-upon-a-time. 


TEA-PARTIES 

I  should  enjoy,  if  I  was  let, 

Tea-parties  nearly  ev'ry  day. 

It  is  the  nicest  kind  of  play — 
With  dishes  from  the  kitchen  set, 
And  all  the  cookies  we  can  get, 

And  tea  that 's  made  the  cambric  way. 

I  usurally  like  to  stay 
Until  the  food  has  all  been  et. 
And  then,  although  I  'm  really  glad 

To  leave,  it 's  more  polite,  you  know, 
To  say:  My  dear,  it  makes  me  sad, 

But  I  must  call  my  dolls  and  go." 
(I  'm  glad  my  manners  are  n't  as  bad 

As  those  of  other  girls  I  knowl) 


CHRISTMAS    MORNING 

Yesterday  I  tore  some  lace — stuck  my  finger  through 

it; 

Day  before  I  made  a  face — no  one  saw  me  do  it. 
Once  I  splattered  with  the  ink — got  my  dress  all 

spotted, 
And  there  's  other  things  I  think  that  I  have  for- 

gotted. 
Do  you  s'pose  HE  came  last  night?     I  was  always 

taught  he 
Would  n't  bring  a  single  mite  to   a  child  that  's 

naughty ! 

But  I  guess  if  Santy's  house  has  some  children  in  it, 
They  're  not  quiet  as  a  mouse  every  single  minute. 
And  I  guess  that  Mrs.  Claus  told  him,  if  he  let  her, 
Not  to  blame  this  child,   because  his  are  n't  any 

better  1 


53 


THE    CHERUB 

If  that 's  a  cherub,  I  don't  see  why 

They  ever  should  call  me  one : 
My  face  ain't  round  like  an  apple  pie, 
An'  I  have  n't  a  couple  of  wings  to  fly, 

But  legs  that  '11  jump  an'  run. 
If  that 's  a  cherub,  it  seems  to  me, 
There  's  nicer  things  that  a  boy  could  be. 

If  cherubs  are  really  made  just  so, 

Then  how  can  they  ever  play? 
There  is  n't  a  place  but  clouds  to  go, 
Or  just  keep  fluttering  to  and  fro, 

Or  stand  on  their  chins  all  day. 
I  s'pose  it  's  easy  to  soil  a  cloud, 
And  people  with  feet  are  not  allowed. 

If  I  was  really  a  cherub,  though, 

'T  would  be  sort  of  fun  to  fly. 
And  parents  would  n't  keep  teasing  so 
If  I  'd  been  out  in  the  rain  or  snow, 

To  see  if  my  feet  was  dry. 
And  if  I  ate  loads  of  pie  and  cake, 
Then  all  outdoors  could  have  stomach  ache. 


54 


FICKLE 

New  dolly,  you  are  very  sweet! 

With  lips,  an'  teeth,  an'  truly  hair! 
And  you  can  bend  your  hands  an'  feet, 

Instead  of  sprawling  here  an'  there. 
And  you  can  close  your  eyes  up  tight, 

Instead  of  staring,  day  an'  night. 

I  am  so  very  proud  of  you 

I  know  now  just  how  mother  feels, 
When  I  am  dressed  my  nicest,  too, 

And  there  is  company  to  meals. 
Us  mothers  take  a  lot  of  pride 

In  pretty  children  at  our  side. 

I  think  I  '11  call  you  Anna  Belle, — 
You  must  n't  let  it  make  you  vain, — 

Or  maybe  you  are  Lady  Nell; 

My  rag-doll's  name  was  only  Jane. 

I  hope  she  won't  feel  bad,  but — well — 

I  re'lize,  now,  that  she  was  plain. 


CLOCKS 

The  clock  I  go  to  bed  by  is  so  very  wee  and  small, 
The  big  hand  gets  around  it  in  almost  no  time  at  all; 
And  after  tea,  when  bedtime  is  half  a  nour  away, 
The  little  minutes  on  it  are  the  shortest  in  the  day. 

I  wish  that  little  bedtime  clock  was  hanging  here 

instead, 
And  then  they  'd  use  this  kitchen  clock  for  sending 

me  to  bed. 
When  I  'm  waiting  for  my  luncheon,  it 's  so  terribully 

slow; 
It  has  the  biggest  minutes  of  'most  any  clock  I  know. 


AMBITION 

I  Ve  shoed  my  horse  and  fed  my  cow, 
And  I  am  mending  houses  now; 
I  think  I  '11  be,  when  I  am  old, 
A  farmer  or  a  blacksmith  bold. 
Unless  I  find  that  I  prefer 
To  be  sometimes  a  carpenter. 

I've  learned  so  much,  though  I  am  small, 
Perhaps  I  '11  grow  to  be  them  all. 


57 


RESPONSIBILITIES 

I've  learned  to  say  my  evening  prayers 
While  nurse  is  waiting  in  the  hall; 

I  have  so  many  heavy  cares 
I  like  to  think  about  them  all. 

I  tell  what  mischief  I've  been  in, 
And  every  night  I  never  fail 

To  tell  all  little  brother's  sin, 
And  no  one  calls  me  "tattle  tale." 


SOAP   BUBBLES 

If  I  knew  magic,  and  could  do 

Just  anything  I  wanted  to, 
I'd  blow  a  bubble  strong  and  wide 

Enough  for  me  to  get  inside. 

We'd  sail  far  up  into  the  blue, 

And  when  it  burst  and  went  away, 

I'd  visit — for  a  day  or  two — 

The  place  where  vanished  bubbles  play. 


59 


A  MOTHER'S  HOPES 

Sometimes  my  mother  confesses, 

If  she  smiles  when  she's  making  my  clo'se, 
That  she's  sewing  fond  hopes  in  my  dresses, 

And  weaving  sweet  dreams  as  she  sews. 

And  so,  when  I'm  stitching  and  mending, 
And  all  my  doll's  dresses  I  sew, 

I  smile  to  myself  while  pretending 

The  things  they  will  do  when  they  grow. 


60 


IRONING  DAY 

I  don't  see  why  the  grown-ups  care 
Each  time  they  find  a  rip  or  tear, 
And  seem  to  feel  so  badly,  just 
Because  my  clothes  get  soiled  and  mussed. 

My  children  keep  too  clean  and  neat, — 
And  dirty  dollies  are  a  treat. 
I  find  it  quite  the  nicest  play 
To  wash  and  iron  every  day. 


61 


INCORRIGIBLE 

I  guess  I'm  bad  as  I  can  be, 

'Cause  after  uncle  found  and  yanked  me 
Out  of  that  old  apple-tree, 

And  after  dad  came  home  and  spanked  me, 
And  while  my  teacher  told  me  things 

About  the  narrow  path  of  duty, 
And  how  an  education  brings 

The  only  truly  joy  and  beauty, 
And  while  she  said  she  didn't  doubt 

They'd  wasted  all  the  good  they'd  taught  me, 
I  had  to  grin,  to  think  about 

The  fun  I  had  before  they  caught  me. 


62 


TAKING  BROTHER'S  PICTURE 

He  felt  quite  miser'ble,  I  know, 
Dressed  in  his  Sunday  best; 

They  pinched  his  head  and  sat  him  so 
He  was  uncomfyest. 

And  then  that  silly  picture-man 

Said  "Look  as  pleasant  as  you  can!" 


THE  FISHERMAN 

IVe  sitted  here  for  days  and  days 

And  haven't  caught  a  thing; 
I've  tried  a  lot  of  diff'rent  ways 

Of  jiggling  the  string, 
I've  held  the  pole  as  still  and  firm 

As  anyone  could  wish. 
I  don't  believe  my  angle  worm 

Has  seen  a  single  fish! 


64 


THE  OCCASIONAL  ANGUISH  OF  BEDTIME 

When  it  is  sister's  party  night, 

It's  hard  to  have  to  go 
Straight  off  to  bed.     It  isn't  right ! 

You'd  think  they  ought  to  know, 
Or  maybe  no  one  loves  us,  and 

That's  why  they  treat  us  so. 


EVENING  IN  THE  PANTRY 

It's  lofrs  more  fun  to  eat  a  pie 
When  grown-ups  are  not  sitting  by; 
And  jam  and  tarts  and  all  such  stuff, — 
Then  you  can  really  eat  enough. 
But  we're  afraid  there's  much  too  few 
For  now  and  for  to-morrow  too ! 


66 


HIS  FIRST  AFFAIR 

I  told  Eliza  Mary  Ann 

We'd  marry  when  I  was  a  man. 

I  told  her  just  how  glad  she'd  be 

To  marry  such  a  man  as  me. 

But  now  we've  quarrelled,  guess  that  I 

Will  go  to  war,  and  maybe  die. 


A  RAINY  PICNIC  DAY 

It's  raining — raining  hard  as  cats  and  dogs, 
It  always  did  when  days  we  planned  for  came. 

I  wish  that  we  were  ducks  or  little  frogs, 
Then  we  could  have  our  picnic  just  the  same. 

It  seems  zif  little  children's  pleasure  days 
Could  be  put  off  in  such  a  lot  of  ways. 


70 


PLAYING  DOCTOR 

Some  day  I'll  be  a  doctor-man, 
So  now  I  practise  all  I  can. 
We  caught  the  cat,  and  Rover,  too, 
And  tried  to  act  as  doctors  do. 
But  baby  howled  and  spoiled  it  all, 
By  bringing  Aunty  from  the  hall. 


THE  RIDER 

We've  rode  a  thousand  miles  or  more, 
My  horse  and  I,  across  the  floor. 
And  when  I've  gone  another  mile 
I'll  maybe  let  him  rest  awhile. 

My  mother  thinks  this  horse  by  far 
The  best  of  all  the  steeds  there  are; 
For  though  I  gallop  all  the  day 
I  don't  get  very  far  away. 


PLAYING  IN  THE  BARN 

The  barn's  the  nicest  place  to  play: 
I  guess  'twas  meant  for  little  boys. 

You  shout  and  tumble  in  the  hay, 
With  nobody  to  mind  the  noise. 

And  there's  an  awful  dang'rous  swing 
That  flies  as  high  as  anything! 


73 


OMNISCIENCE 

I've  been  to  school  at  least  a  hundred  days 

Or  maybe  more; 
My  brother,  he  just  stays  at  home  and  plays, — 

He's  only  four. 

I'm  old.    I  know  that  gnomes  and  elves  and  such 

Are  just  a  fraud. 
There's  no  one  'cept  my  daddy  knows  so  much, 

And,  maybe,  God. 


74 


SPEAKING  THE  FIRST  PIECE 

It's  hard,  when  I'm  dressed  up  so  nice, 
And  have  my  piece  so  well  prepared, 

To  have  them  sit  as  still  as  mice, 
And  know  that  I  am  getting  scared. 

You  can't  expect  a  child  like  me 

To  know  her  pieces  perfectly. 


75 


SPRINKLING  THE  BABY 

My  mother  says  I'm  much  too  small 
To  have  a  garden  of  my  own. 

She  says  I  take  no  pains  at  all 

To  tend  my  plants,  from  spring  to  fall ; 
That's  why  they  haven't  grown. 

She  says  they  can't  get  tall  and  strong 
Unless  they're  watered  right  along. 

I  want  to  let  my  mother  know 

That  I  can  truly  do  a  lot. 
I'm  big  enough  to  help,  and  so 
I'm  making  baby  sister  grow, — 

She's  such  a  tiny  tot. 
And  things  won't  grow,  the  folks  all  say, 
Unless  they're  watered  every  day. 


MOTHER  WANTS  ME 

Tell  me  what  time  it  is,  wise  little  flower! 

Answer  me  truthfully,  now  when  I  blow. 
Off  goes  your  bonnet  to  show  me  the  hour, 

All  your  white  feathers  go  flying  like  snow. 
Off  goes  your  bonnet — and  plainly  you  say, 
"Mother  is  wanting  you,  hurry  away!" 

Mother  is  wanting  me,  so  I  must  run, 
But  there's  so  much  in  this  garden  to  do ! 

Not  more  than  half  of  my  playing  done. 
Why  did  I  ever  ask  questions  of  you? 


77 


BALLADE  OF  THE  LITTLE  THINGS  THAT 
COUNT 

The  furrow's  long  behind  my  plow — 

My  field  is  strewn  with  stones  of  care, 
And  trouble  gathers  thick  enow 

As  years  add  silver  to  my  hair. 

Could  I  an  easier  path  prepare 
For  baby  feet  that  start  to  mount:? — 

Save  them  a  bit  of  wear  and  tear, — 
And  show  the  little  things  that  count? 

I  see  a  tiny  maiden  bow 

O'er  slate  and  pencil,  in  her  chair: 
A  little  pucker  on  her  brow, 

A  little  tousle  in  her  hair. 

And  one  wee  tear  has  fallen  where 
The  crooked  figures  grin  and  flount; 

My  heart  goes  reaching  to  her  there — 
I  love  the  little  things  that  count  I 

Arithmetic  is  such  a  slough — 

A  pilgrim's  swamp  of  dull  despair, 

But  Discipline  will  not  allow 
My  hand  to  point  a  thoro'fare. 
Harsh  figures  face  us  everywhere, 
78 


LITTLE    THINGS   THAT    COUNT     79 

O'erwhelmmg  in  their  vast  amount; 

Must  she  so  soon  their  burden  bear? — 
I  love  the  little  things  that  count ! 

Stern  Teacher,  must  she  ever  fare 

Alone  to  Learning's  chilly  fount? 
There  is  so  much  I  long  to  share — 

I  love  the  Little  Things  That  Count! 


ENVY 

There  are  lizards  in  the  pool, 
Pollywogs  and  fishes  fleet; 

Swimming  where  it's  wet  and  cool, 
Finding  tiny  things  to  eat. 

They  don't  have  to  go  to  school, 
They  can  always  wet  their  feet 

P'raps  it  gives  them  extra  joy 

'Cause  they're  not  a  little  boy. 


80 


IN  SLUMBERLAND 

Where  is  the  road  to  Slumberland? 

Just  rest  your  cheek  upon  your  hand, 
And  press  your  pillow  hard,  and  say 
Good-night  to  all  the  world  of  Day; 

Breathe  deep — and,  presto !   you  will  stand 

Upon  the  shores  of  Slumberland. 

All  sounds  are  songs  in  Slumberland — 

The  rhyme  of  waves  upon  the  sand, 
The  whisp'ring  boughs,  the  droning  breeze, 
And  dreams  are  blossoming  on  the  trees; 

They  only  wait  your  gathering  hand, 

Wee  visitor  to  Slumberland. 

And  all  you  meet  in  Slumberland 

Obedient  and  expectant  stand; 
The  birds  and  beasts,  the  gnomes  and  elves, 
The  sun  and  moon  and  stars  themselves, 

All  wait  to  heed  your  least  command, 

While  You  are  king  in  Slumberland. 


IN  WINTER  TIME 

The  winter  time  is  extra  nice — 
We  run  and  slide  upon  the  ice, 
Or  build  a  snow-man,  fat  and  tall; 
But  coasting  is  the  best  of  all. 
The  baby  is  so  soft  and  plump 
We  put  him  first,  in  case  we  bump, 


82 


WHERE  DREAMS  ARE  MADE 

Dreams  are  made  in  the  moon,  my  dear, 

On  her  shining  hillsides  steep; 
Pleasant  and  dreadful  and  gay  and  queer, 

They're  piled  in  a  silver  heap. 
And  many  fairies  with  buzzing  wings 
Are  busy  with  hammers  and  wheels  and  things, 
Making  the  dreams  that  Night-time  brings 

To  all  little  boys  asleep. 

And  if  a  boy  has  been  good  till  night, 

When  snug  in  his  bed  he  lies 
The  fairies  come  with  a  moonbeam  bright 

And  slide  him  up  to  the  skies. 
And  there  he  sails  as  the  Moon-king's  guest, 
And  chooses  the  dreams  he  likes  the  best; 
Then  they  slide  him  back  to  his  nurs'ry  nest 

And  leave  him  rubbing  his  eyes. 


THE  SPY 

Yesterday  mother  she  spanked  me  so  hard, 

I  sort  of  keep  feeling  it  now; 
For  somehow  she  learned,  when  I  hid  in  the  yard, 

That  I'd  done  what  she  didn't  allow. 
I  asked  how  she  knew  that  I'd  gone  and  been  bad, 
And  she  said  that  a  little  bird  told  her  I  had. 

It's  always  some  Dird  that  has  tattled  before, 
And  helped  grown-up  folks  to  find  out; 

And  now  when  I've  just  shut  the  jam-closet  door 
I  find  you  a-hopping  about ! 

And  if  you're  the  bird  that's  been  doing  all  that, 

I'll  find  where  you  live,  an'  I'll  tell  my  old  cat. 


86 


PICTURE  BOOKS 

All  the  world  is  freshly  tinted 
For  the  eyes  of  each  new  child; 

For  his  joy  new  sunbeams  glinted, 
Castle-clouds  were  reared  and  piled, 

Nature,  spreading  arts  unstinted, 
Was  rewarded  when  he  smiled. 

All  the  lore  of  all  the  ages, 
Colors  stolen  from  the  skies, 

Wrought  by  painters,  poets,  sages, 
Have  attained  their  richest  prize 

If  on  oft-read,  thumb-worn  pages 
They  delight  the  children's  eyes. 


THE  TOY  SOLDIERS 

Sleep  on,  Little  Boy,  and  sleep  secure — 

All  day  you  have  played  so  hard! 
Your  little  feet  that  have  romped  and  strayed, 
Your  head  that  has  planned  the  games  we  played, 

May  rest,  while  we  all  keep  guard. 

Sleep  on,  Little  Boy,  your  rest  is  sure — 

What  though  we  are  battle-scarred; 
The  love  youVe  lavished  on  us  all  day 
Will  more  than  do  for  a  soldier's  pay! 
Sleep,  then,  for  we  all  keep  guard. 


THE  WEATHER  MAN 

Watchman,  tell  us  of  the  day, — 
Is  it  fit  for  noble  deeds? 

Does  it  call  you  to  the  fray? 
Or  the  sort  of  morn  that  breeds 

Poet-thoughts  along  the  way? 


Watchman,  do  you  gaze  upon 
Skies  of  hope,  or  clouds  of  doubt? 

Faint  the  answer  came,  anon — 
"Mother  says  I  can't  go  out 

'Less  I  put  my  rubbers  on." 


THE  PLAYMATE 

I  barked  beneath  his  window,  "Come  and  play!" 
I  scratched  so  lightly  at  his  nursery  door. 

I  whimpered  softly  in  the  passageway — 
He  never  failed  to  answer  me  before. 

I've  saved  the  willow  whip  his  fingers  peeled; 

The  stick  he  used  to  throw  is  by  the  pool ; 
The  butterflies  are  waiting  in  the  field 

Beside  the  grassy  path  that  led  to  school. 

It  is  so  long  since  last  we  romped  and  ran. 

How  proud  I  was  to  guard  his  door  of  late! 
I've  called  to  him  in  every  way  I  can. 

There's  nothing  left  to  do  but  wait — and  wait. 


BABY  JOHN 

The  lazy  sun  is  yawning,  as  it  hides  behind  the  town, 

For  the  Sleepy-Time  is  at  hand; 
And  cozy  beds  are  calling,  as  the  sun  goes  creeping 

down, 

To  each  little  boy  in  the  land. 
The  organ-man  is  drowsy  as  he  wanders  down  the 

street; 

The  leaves  are  asleep  on  the  tree; 
And  the  horses  and  the  wagons  and  the  little  dogs 

you  meet 
Are  as  sleepy  as  they  can  be. 

Your  bed  is  calling  to  you,  little  John,  Baby  John! 
There's  a  sleepy  chair  beside  it  to  hang  your  clothes 

upon. 
And  I  hear  the  cool  sheets  saying,  "What  means  this 

long  delaying? 
It  is  time  you  stopped  your  playing,  Baby  John!" 

The  chairs  are  all  so  tired  that  to  use  them  is  a  sin, 

While  the  floor  is  asleep,  no  doubt, 
And  the  carpets  are  the  bedclothes  that  snugly  tuck 
it  in — 


92  BABY    JOHN 

You'll  wake  it  if  you  run  about! 
I  heard  the  cuckoo  calling  from  the  big  clock  in  the 

hall— 

"Hurry  up,  little  John!"  it  said; 
And  the  little  clock  is  ticking,  half  asleep  against 

the  wall, 
"Go  to  bed!   Go  to  bed!    Go  to  bed!" 

Your  bed  is  calling  to  you,  little  John,  Baby  John! 
There's  a  crinkley  white  pillow  to  rest  your  head 

upon. 
And  the  little  dreams  come  creeping,  I  can  see  them 

slyly  peeping 
To  see  if  you  are  sleeping,  Baby  John. 


THE  FIRST  HAIR  CUT 

Jimmy's  had  a  hair  cut! 

How  the  folks  all  stare. 
It's  so  short  you  see  his  skin 

Showing  through  his  hair. 
'T  wasn't  like  he'd  had  before, 

Cut  around  a  bowl; 
It  was  in  that  barber-store 

By  the  candy  pole. 

Jimmy's  had  a  hair  cut ! 

We  was  there  to  see, 
Peeking  through  the  window-pane,- 

All  the  boys  and  me. 
93 


94  THE    FIRST    HAIR    CUT 

He  looked  worried  there  alone, 
Trying  hard  to  grin, 

On  a  kind  of  great  big  throne 
Wrapped  up  to  his  chin. 


Jimmy's  had  a  hair  cut! 

'Course  it  scared  him  some. 
All  those  shears  and  cups  and  things 

Sort  of  struck  him  dumb. 
My,  I  wished  that  I  was  him 

Sitting  there  instead 
Looking  like  a  cherubim, 

Showing  just  my  head. 

Wish  I'd  had  my  hair  cut 

By  a  shiney  man, 
Telling  grown-up  jokes  and  such 

While  his  snippers  ran. 
Jimmy's  mother  saved  a  curl, — 

She  feels  bad,  I  know, 
That  he  wasn't  born  a  girl 

And  could  let  them  grow. 

Jimmy's  had  a  hair  cut, — 
My!     It  made  him  proud! 

Walking  out,  while  all  of  us 
Followed  in  a  crowd. 


THE    FIRST   HAIR    CUT  95 

He  got  pretty  rich  that  day 

'Fore  he  went  to  bed, 
Making  every  fellow  pay 

Just  to  smell  his  head. 


COIN'    BAREFOOT 

It's  more  fun  goin'  barefoot  than  anythin'  I  know. 
There  ain't  another  single  thing  that  helps  yer  feel- 

in's  so. 
Some  days  I  stay  in  Muvver's  room  a-gettin'  in  her 

way, 
An'  when  I've  bothered  her  so  much  she  sez,  "Oh 

run  and  play," 
I  say,  "Kin  I  go  barefoot?"     En  she  sez,  "If  y' 

choose;" 
Nen  I  alwuz  wanter  holler  when  I'm  pullin'  off  my 

shoes  1 

96 


COIN'    BAREFOOT  97 

It's  fun  a-goin'  barefoot  when  yer  playin'  any  game, 
'Cause  robbers  would  be  noisy  an'  Indians  awful 

tame 
Unless  they  had  their  shoes  off  when  they  crep'  up  Jn 

th'  night, 
A ny  folks  can't  know  they're  comin'  till  they  get  right 

close  in  sight! 
An'  I'm  surely  goin'  barefoot  every  day  when  I  get 

old 
An'  haven't  got  a  nurse  to  say  I'll  catch  my  detho- 

cold! 

An'  if  yer  goin'  barefoot  yer  want  t'  go  outdoors — 

Y'  can't  strech  out  an'  dig  yer  heels  in  stupid  hard- 
wood floors 

Like  you  kin  dig  'em  in  th'  dirt.  An'  where  th'  long 
grass  grows 

The  blades  feel  kinder  tickly  an'  cool  between  yer 
toes. 

So  when  I'm  pullin'  off  my  shoes  I'm  mighty  'fraid 
I'll  cough, 

'Cause  then  I  know  Ma'd  stop  me  'fore  I  got  my 
stockin's  off ! 

If  y'  often  go  'round  barefoot  there's  lots  o'  things 

to  know, 
Of  how  t'  curl  yer  feet  on  stones  so  they  won't  hurt 

y'  so, 


98  COIN'    BAREFOOT 

An'  when  th'  grass  is  stickly  and  pricks  y'  at  a  touch, 
Jes'  plunk  your  feet  down  solid  an'  it  don't  hurt  half 

so  much. 
I  lose  my  hat  mos'  every  day.     I  wish  I  did  my 

shoes — 
Er  else  I  wisht  I  was  so  poor  I  hadn't  none  t'  lose  I 


COOKIN'   THINGS 

When  my  mother's  cookin'  things, 

You  bet  I  never  wait 
To  put  away  my  ball  er  gun, 
I  drop  'em  where  they  are  an1  run 

Per  fear  I'll  be  too  late. 
The  most  excitin'  kind  of  game, 

Er  toy,  er  story-book, 
I  let  'em  go,  an'  never  mind, 
The  very  minute  that  I  find 

My  mother's  goin'  to  cook  I 

When  my  mother's  cookin'  things, 

Then  you  just  oughter  smell 
The  spices  an'  the  sweets  an'  such, 
My  mouth  gets  waterin'  so  much 

I  almost  have  to  yell ! 
She  opens  up  the  oven  door 

Sometimes,  to  take  a  look, 
An'  then  I  jab  'em  while  they're  hot, 
To  see  if  they  are  done  er  not, 

When  mother  lets  me  cook. 

When  my  mother's  cookin'  things, 

P'r'aps  it's  pies  to  bake, 
Er  doughnuts  bobbin'  up  an'  down 
In  boilin'  grease  till  they  are  brown, 

Er  p'r'aps  it's  johnny-cake. 

99 


ioo  COOKIN'    THINGS 

Whatever  kind  of  thing  it  is, 

I  always  like  to  hook 
The  biggest  piece  of  dough  I  can 
An'  bake  it  in  a  patty-pan, 

When  me  an'  mother  cook. 

When  my  mother's  cookin'  things, 
It  pays  you  if  you  wait 

An'  eat  'em  hot,  right  off  the  tin, 

It's  twice  as  good  as  anythin' 

Could  be,  et  off  a  plate ! 

An'  I  guess  you'd  find  out  f er  sure 
That  I  was  not  mistook 

In  any  single  thin'  I've  said, 

If  you  could  taste  the  gingerbread 
I've  helped  my  mother  cook. 


INTERRUPTING 


They  say  it's  wrong  to  interrupt  when  someone  talks 

to  you, 

But  I  don't  do  it  near  as  much  as  grown-up  people  do ; 
For  while  I'm  telling  Mother  some  important  piece 

of  news 

She  is  counting  up  my  buttons  or  examining  my  shoes. 
And  just  when  I  have  gotten  to  the  most  exciting  part, 
And  she  ought  to  pay  attention  to  my  words  with  all 

her  heart, 

All  at  once  she  says,  "Come  here! 
I  very  greatly  fear 
A  button's  coming  off  your  clothes,  and  I  must  fix  it, 

dear." 


It's  just  the  same  with  Father, — he's  no  better,  I'm 
afraid. 

I  always  want  him  to  admire  important  things  I've 
made. 

But  when  I  start  to  show  him,  so  that  he  will  under- 
stand 

Where  I  nailed  it  or  I  sawed  it,  and  just  how  I 
worked  and  planned, 
101 


102  INTERRUPTING 

He'll  nod  his  head,  and  say  "Indeed!"  in  an  atten- 
tive way, 

And  act  as  if  he  saw  it,  but  then  like  as  not  he'll  say, 

Just  when  I've  got  a-going, 

"My  boy,  your  nose  needs  blowing;" 

Which  proves  he  doesn't  hear,  nor  even  look  at  what 
I'm  showing. 


BEIN'    SICK 

When  I  am  really  sick  abed 

It  isn't  ever  any  fun. 
I  feel  all  achey  in  my  head 

An'  hate  to  take  my  medisun. 
Th'  sheets  get  stickyish  and  hot, 

But  I  am  not  allowed  to  kick 
'Em  off,  er  read,  er  talk  a  lot 
When  I  am  sick. 

I  hate  fer  all  th'  folks  about 

To  come  an'  pat  me  on  th?  face 
An'  say,  "Poor  child,  you'll  soon  be  out," 

An'  tiptoe  all  around  th'  place. 
They  go  when  I  pertend  to  be 

Asleep — I  do  it  fer  a  trick : 
I  don't  like  folks  to  pity  me 
When  I  am  sick. 

103 


io4  BEIN'    SICK 

My  mother's  diff'runt — I  don't  care 

If  she  sits  by  me  once  er  twice 
An'  says,  "Poor  boy,"  an'  smooths  my 

hair; 

She  ain't  just  tryin'  to  be  nice. 
They  bring  warm  squushy  things  to  me 

Per  meals,  an'  make  me  eat  'em  quick. 
I'm  mis'ruble  as  I  can  be 
When  I  am  sick. 


GETTIN'    WELL 


When  yer  really  sick  abed 

All  th'  fun  is  getting  well. 
Say!    It's  jolly  bein'  fed — 

I  kin  hardly  ever  tell 
What  tastes  best.    'Most  any  food 

Goes  so  fast  I  wanter  lick 
Th'  plate.  Stuff  always  tastes  so  good 

When  I've  been  sick. 


I  like  it  best  when  I  can  sit 

All  bundled  in  th'  easy  chair, 
With  all  th'  windows  raised  a  bit 

To  give  th'  place  a  little  air. 
An'  if  a  breeze  comes  now  an'  then, 

I  tell  y'  what,  it's  pretty  slick 
Just  t'  smell  outdoors  again 

When  I've  been  sick ! 


They  put  th'  kittens  on  th'  rug, 
An'  mother  brings  her  sewin'  in, 

An'  everythin's  so  nice  an'  snug 
I  sit  an'  look  around  an'  grin. 
105 


i©6  GETTIN'    WELL 

An'  then  I  get  to  countin'  snecp, 

Or  wond'rin  why  th'  clock  should  tick 

In  diff'runt  ways.    I  like  t'  sleep 
When  I've  been  sick. 


SOAP,  THE  OPPRESSOR 

The  folks  at  my  house  half  the  time  are  thinkin' 

about  dirt; 

It  sort  of  gives  'em  horrors,  an'  they  act  as  if  it  hurt. 
The  sight  of  just  a  little  makes  'em  daffy  as  can  be — 
They're  always  washin'  sumthin',  an'  half  the  time 

it's  me. 

It  ain't  because  I  wet  my  feet  that  gives  me  colds  an' 

such; 
'Tain't  runnin'  round  that  keeps  me  thin — it's  'cause 

I'm  washed  so  much. 
It  does  no  good  to  tell  'em,  they're  so  stubburn.    But 

I  hope 
That  some  day  they'll  discover  what  deceitful  stuff  is 

soap. 

I  tell  you,  very  often  when  my  hands  was  clean  and 

white 
I've  gone  along  to  wash  'em,  'cause  it  did  no  good  to 

fight. 
When  I've  stuck  'em  in  the  basin  it  was  plain  enough 

to  see 

The  soap  would  make  the  water  as  dirty  as  could  be. 

107 


io«  SOAP,  THE  OPPRESSOR 

If  folks  would  give  me  half  a  chance,  with  soap  that 

didn't  cheat, 
I  guess  they'd  be  surprised  to  find  I'm  nachurally 

neat. 
I'd  take  on  flesh  and  leave  off  havin'  colds  an'  such, 

I  know, — 
An'  no  one  could  complain  about  the  parts  of  me  that 

show. 


BED-TIME 

Last  year  my  bed-time  was  at  eight, 

And  every  single  night 
I  used  to  wish  the  clock  would  wait, 

Or  else  stay  out  of  sight. 
It  always  seemed  to  me 
The  next  half-hour' d  be 
The  nicest  time  of  all  the  day 

If  mother  would  agree. 
But  she  always  shook  her  head 
And  she  sort  of  jumped,  and  said, 

'Why,  it's  late — after  eight — 
And  it's  time  you  were  in  bed!" 

That  clock  would  always  do  its  best 

To  sit  all  quiet  there, 
Until  I  was  my  comfyest 

In  some  big  easy  chair, 
log 


no  BED-TIME 

Then  its  striking  would  begin, 
And  I'd  tell  my  Motherkin 
How  I'd  just  begun  a  chapter, 
And  it  was  so  inl'restin* — 
And  the  end  was  just  ahead — 
But  she  usurully  said, 

"No;  it's  late — after  eight — 
And  it's  time  to  go  to  bed!" 

And  now  my  bed-time  is  ha-past, — 
But  yet  that  old  clock  does 

The  same  mean  tricks — it's  just  as  fast, 
Or  faster,  than  it  was. 

Last  night  it  seemed  to  me 

The  next  half-hour  'd  be 

The  nicest  time  of  all  the  day 
If  mother  would  agree. 

But  she  smiled  and  shook  her  head, 

And  she  kissed  me  while  she  said, 
"Why,  it's  late — ha-past  eight— -* 

And  it's  time  you  went  to  bed!" 


SUPERSTISHUS 

Onct  I  went  a-fishin'  with  a  man  what  had  a  reel 
An'  fancy  hooks  an'  catgut  an'  a  fish-pole  made  o' 

steel ; 

He  never  got  a  single  bite  from  early  until  late, 
Just  'cuz  he  didn't  take  no  stock  in  spittin'  on  th'  bait. 
Yes,  he  can  laff  an'  jeer,  but  Where's  his  fish,  I'd  like 

ter  know? 
Oh,  I  guess  lots  o'  things  is  true  'at  some  folks  say 

ain't  so! 


D'jever  drop  a  horse-hair  into  th'  wat'rin'-t rough 
An'  leave  it  there  f er  weeks  an'  weeks  'thout  drainin' 

of  it  off? 

An'  ef  you  use  a  human  hair  they  say  it  only  takes 
Jes'  half  as  long — but  anyhow,  it  turns  'em  into 

snakes! 

An'  ef  a  feller  don't  believe  a  half  the  things  he  hears 
A  darnin'  needle  comes  along  an'  sews  up  both  his 

ears! 

Our  cook,  she's  superstishus — she's  scared  as  anythin' 
If  someone  spills  a  little  salt  er  don't  pick  up  a  pin. 

in 


ii2  SUPERSTISHUS 

An*  when  I  wuz  a  kid  I'd  walk  down  to  th'  gate  an' 

back, 
An'  think  that  I  wuz  poisoned  if  my  foot  stepped  on 

a  crack  1 

I  know  them  things  is  silly — I  cross  my  heart  I  do — 
But  I  guess  lots  o'  things  is  so  'at  some  folks  never 

knew  I 


BABIES 

A  baby  is  so  queer,  you  know, 
I  think,  each  new  one  that  I  see, 

It  isn't  possible  he'll  grow 
To  be  as  fine  a  boy  as  me. 


113 


ILLOGICAL 

They're  as  proud  as  they  can  be 
Every  time  the  baby  squeaks; 

When  she  gets  as  big  as  me 

Bet  they'll  scold  her  if  she  speaks  I 

'Cause  some  visitor,  perhaps, 
When  I  try  to  say  a  word, 

Laughs  an'  says  that  little  chaps 
Should  be  seen  instead  of  heard. 

If  that's  truly  what  they  mean, 
Seems  to  me  it  wasn't  wise, 

If  they  meant  me  to  be  seen, 
Not  to  make  me  bigger  size. 

An'  if  I  can't  talk  so  much, 

Why  did  God,  who  had  his  choice 
Of  materials  an'  such, 

Make  me  have  so  big  a  voice? 


THE    BUTTERFLY 

It's  just  a  monstrous  ant  with  paper  wings. 

I  think  I  won't  disturb  it  where  it  stands ! 
It  never  buzzes  and  it  never  sings. — 

I  wonder  which  is  feet  and  which  is  hands? 

I  don't  see  what  it's  good  for,  anyway. 

It  never  does  a  thing  but  stand  and  flutter; 
I've  followed  it  around  for  half  the  day 

And  haven't  seen  it  make  a  bit  of  butter. 


115 


RAIN-CHARM 

Rain,  rain,  go  away;  come  again  another  day, 
Little  Billie  wants  to  play! 

What's  the  reason,  do  you  s  pose,  that  it  has  to  rain? 

I've  been  flattenin'  my  nose  up  against  th'  pane 

For  about  an  hour  or  so,  beggin'  for  th'  rain  to  go. 

In  th'  attic  it's  no  fun  'thout  th'  other  boys. 
I  get  countin',  one  by  one,  every  single  noise, 
An'  the  raindrops,  when  they  strike,  sound  so  kinder 
solemn-like. 

I  jus'  wait  in  this  one  place  wishin'  it  would  pass, 
Watchin'  all  th'  raindrops  race  down  across  th'  glass; 
See  each  big  one,  when  it  runs,  gobble  all  th'  little 
ones. 

Rain,  rain,  go  away — wish  you'd  come  at  night. 

Guess  you  knew  I'd  plans  t'day,  an'  you  came  fer 
spite. 

Seems  zif  jus'  th'  days  it  pours  I  most  want  t'  be  out- 
doors 1 


116 


APPLE-PIE 

When  our  cook  she  makes  a  pie 

You  oughter  see  her  fingers  fly ! 
She  sits  an'  holds  a  yeller  bowl 
An'  stirs  so  fast  she  keeps  a  hole 

Down  through  the  middle  of  the  stuff ; 

There's  milk  an'  egg,  an'  flour  enough, 
And  maybe  other  things,  but  I 
Ferget  just  all  that  makes  a  pie ! 

When  our  cook  she  makes  a  pie 
She  rolls  the  dough,  that,  by  an'  by, 
Is  two  round  blankets ;  then  you'll  see 
Her  slice  some  apples  evenly. 
Plump  into  bed  she  makes  'em  hop, 
An'  cuts  some  peep-holes  through  the  top 
So  they  won't  smother  when  they  lie 
All  warm  an7  sugared  in  the  pie. 

When  our  cook  she  makes  a  pie 
She  balances  the  plate  up  high, 
And  with  a  pleasant,  snippy  sound 
She  trims  it  nicely  all  around. 
117 


n8  APPLE-PIE 

And  when  she's  thumbed  the  edges  tight, 
The  apples  can't  get  up  at  night. 

And  when  she's  baked  it,  then,  oh  my! 

You  never  et  such  apple-pie  1 


IN    THE    STUDY 

Nicest  place  in  all  the  house 
Is  my  daddy's  study  chair; 

Just  as  quiet  as  a  mouse 
I  go  creeping  there, 

An'  he  gives  a  little  smile, 

Writing,  writing,  all  the  while. 

There's  at  least  a  million  books 
Up  and  down  and  round  the  wall, 

I  guess,  from  the  way  it  looks, 
I  can't  read  them  all ! 

If  I  did  I'm  sure  I'd  be 

Just  as  wise  and  big  as  he. 


119 


KETCHIN'    RIDES 

I'm  awful  fond  of  ketchin'  rides. 

I  like  those  trucks  where  I  kin  stand 
Without  a-holdin'  to  the  sides 

(Er  maybe  holdin'  with  one  hand ! ) , 
Though  teacher  says  it's  not  refined 
To  go  a-ketchin'  on  behind. 

I  almost  never  walk  to  school, 
So  many  wagons  pass  our  place; 

My  fav'rite  one  he  makes  a  rule 
Of  always  leadin'  me  a  chase, 

An'  then  pertendin'  he's  too  blind 

To  see  me  ketchin'  on  behind. 

I've  found  there's  just  two  kinds  of  men 
What  drives  th'  wagons  in  our  town, 

'Cause  when  I  meet  'em,  now  an'  then, 

There's   some    that  grab   their  whips    er 
frown, 

But  some  they  nod  an'  never  mind 

When  I  am  ketchin'  on  behind. 

Th'  one  that  drives  th'  movin'  van 
Told  me  an'  Brud  he'd  knock  our  skulls 
Together — he's  th'  kind  of  man 
120 


KETCHIN'    RIDES 

That's  mean  to  cats  an'  animuls. 
But  any  man  is  good  an'  kind 
Who  likes  yer  ketchin'  on  behind. 

I  guess  when  I  am  rich  an'  great 
An'  own  a  truck  an'  grocery  cart, 

I'll  always  drive  Jem  slow,  er  wait 
So  little  chaps  kin  get  a  start, 

An'  have  'em  built  so  boys  kin  find 

A  place  fer  ketchin'  on  behind. 


121 


SYMPATHETIC 

Whenever  I  start  out  to  walk,  our  dog  he  seems  to 

know, 
And  runs  along  ahead  of  me  to  show  he's  coming 

too; 

And  when  there  is  a  reason  why  he  really  mustn't  go 
The  hollering  "Go  Home"  to  him  is  awful  hard 
to  do. 

He  wags  his  tail  and  jumps  around,  and  seems  as  if 

he  said, 
"I  guess  you  didn't  mean  it,  you  were  only  jokin' 

then!" 
But  when  he  sees  I'm  serious  he  kinder  droops  his 

head, 
Or  looks  up  at  me  sorrowful,  an'  looks  away  again. 

And  then  at  last  he  minds  me  if  I  keep  an  angry  tone, 
It's  awful  hard  to  do  it,  but  I  try  with  all  my 

might; 
And  sometimes  when  I  look  around  I  see  him  all 

alone 

A-watchin'  me  and  watchin'  me  until  I'm  out  o? 
sight 

122 


SYMPATHETIC  125 

You  see  I  know  just  how  it  is,  'cause  some  days  when 

I  find 
My  brother's  got  to  hurry  off  with  bigger  boys  to 

play, 

And  when  he  says  I  mustn't  go  and  tag  along  behind, 
He  leaves  me  sittin'  somewheres  and  a-feelin'  just 
that  way! 


IN   THE   MORNING 

Reggalerly  every  day, 
When  my  papa's  gotten  up, 

I  can  see  him  far  away 
Mixin'  sumpin'  in  a  cup ; 

I  can  hear  him  slappy-slap 

With  a  knife  against  a  strap. 

He  is  such  a  funny  sight 
In  the  mirror  on  the  shelf, 

With  his  face  all  blobby  white, 
Makin'  faces  at  himself; 

But  I  mustn't  laugh,  or  he 

Comes  an'  rubs  it  all  on  me ! 

Papa  says  when  I'm  growed  up, 
With  some  troubles  an'  a  wife, 

I  can  have  a  mixer-cup 
An'  a  shiny  crooked  knife ; 

But  he  says  I  must  begin 

Puttin'  prickers  in  my  chin. 


126 


'F   I   WAS   ER    HORSE! 

'F  I  was  er  horse  I'd  hate  t'  wear 

A  collar  what  didn't  fit, 

An'  blinder-things,  an'  I  wouldn't  care 

To  chew  on  a  iron  bit. 

It  ain't  a  way  'at  I'd  wanter  live, 

To  just  go  everywhere  I  was  driv. 

'F  I  was  er  horse,  I  guess  you'd  see 
I'd  run  away  pretty  quick ! 
I'd  tear  my  harness  an'  wriggle  free 
An'  go  where  th'  grass  was  thick. 
I'd  kick  my  heels,  an'  I'd  neigh  fer  joy, 
But  I  ain't  er  horse,  I'm  er  little  boy ! 


127 


SPECIAL  WORDS 

My  mother  she  has  special  words 
She's  alwuz  usin',  but  I  find 

The  ones  that  I've  most  often  heard 
Is  By-um-by  and  Never-mind. 

Whenever  I  can't  have  my  way 

An'  beg  her  "when?"  and  tease  her 
"why?" 

The  things  she's  likeliest  to  say 
Is  Never-mind  and  By-um-by. 

An  when  our  picnic  stopped  becuz 
It  rained,  er  sumpin'  of  the  kind, 

The  only  things  she  told  us  was 
Jus'  By-um-by  an'  Never-mind. 

I  as't  when  By-um-by  would  be, 
She  told  me  "Never-mind!"  so  I 

Said  "What  is  Never-mind?"  an'  she 
Said  I'd  discover,  By-um-by. 

My  mother  she  has  special  words 
For  question-answerin'  an'  such, 

But  I  guess  some  that  I  have  heard 
Don't  really  mean  so  awful  much. 
128 


AN    IMAGINING 

Two  sisters  that  I  never  saw 

Are  lying  underneath  the  ground. 

Sometimes  my  mother  takes  me  there 
And  says  that  I  may  play  around. 

But  while  she  sits  so  quietly, 

I  often  have  imaginings, 
And  see  a-flying  near  her  head 

Two  little  baby  girls  with  wings. 


129 


MY    SORE    THUMB 

I  jabbed  a  jack-knife  in  my  thumb — 
Th'  blood  just  spurted  when  it  come ! 

The  cook  got  faint,  an'  nurse  she  yelled 

An'  showed  me  how  it  should  be  held, 
An'  Gran'ma  went  to  get  a  rag, 
An'  couldn't  find  one  in  th'  bag; 

An'  all  the  rest  was  just  struck  dumb 

To  see  my  thumb ! 


Since  I  went  an'  jabbed  my  thumb 
I  go  around  a-lookin'  glum, 

And  Aunt,  she  pats  me  on  the  head 

An'  gives  me  extra  ginger-bread; 
But  brother's  mad,  an'  says  he'll  go 
An'  take  an'  axe,  an'  chop  his  toe : 

An'  then  he  guesses  I'll  keep  mum 

About  my  thumb! 


At  school  they  as't  to  see  my  thumb, 
But  I  just  showed  it  to  my  chum, 
An'  any  else  that  wants  to  see 
Must  divvy  up  their  cake  with  me ! 
130 


MY    SORE    THUMB 

It's  gettin'  well  so  fast,  I  think 
I'll  fix  it  up  with  crimson  ink, 

An'  that'll  keep  up  interest  some 

In  my  poor  thumb! 


AT  THE   ZOO 
I. 

It  must  be  hard  for  you,  porcupine, 
To  dress  when  the  day  begins ! 

I'm  glad  there  aren't  any  clothes  of  mine 
A-needin'  so  many  pins. 

But  when  I've  been  saucy  and  horrid  too, 
Or  up  to  some  naughty  prank, 

If  I  could  only  wear  clothes  like  you 
I'd  be  awfully  hard  to  spank ! 


II. 


A  snake's  the  funniest  thing  I  know, 

So  dreadfully  incomplete; 
Without  any  arms  where  hands  can  grow, 

And  not  any  legs  for  feet. 

But  I  wish  I  could  crawl  on  the  ground 

that  way, 

Or  shin  up  the  apple  trees, 
And  not  have  nursie  get  mad  and  say 
There's  holes  in  my  stockin'  knees  I 
132 


AT    THE   ZOO  135 

III. 

I'm  glad  I  wasn't  a  monkey  too ! 

It's  jolly  to  watch  you  climb, 
But  you're  fighting  and  biting  the  whole 
day  through, 

And  chattering  all  the  time. 

But  maybe  a  tail  like  that  would  be 

An  awfully  useful  thing 
Up  in  our  neighbor's  cherry  tree 

On  holidays  in  the  spring ! 

IV. 

You  thin  giraffe,  if  I  was  you, 

I'd  have  a  hard  time,  I  spec' ; 
For  nursie  would  make  a  great  to-do 

A-washing  my  face  an'  neck. 

But  when  the  jam  and  the  cookie-jar 

Are  hid  on  the  highest  shelf, 
I  wisht  I  was  as  tall  as  you  creatures  are, 

Instead  of  my  tiny  self. 


MAKIN'   THINGS 

Whenever   Christmas   time   comes   round  it  really 

doesn't  take 
Much  money,  'cause  the  folks  prefer  the  presents 

that  I  make. 
And  so,  for  days  and  days  before,  I  saw  and  pound 

and  glue, 
A-making  things  and  planning  who's  the  best  to  give 

'em  to. 
But  sometimes  I  get  thinking  that  I'd  really  like  it 

more 
If  folks  would  only  use  the  things  for  what  I  make 

'em  for! 


136 


A    RECOLLECTION 

When  we  was  visitin'  a  farm 

I  begged  an'  begged  an'  maybe  squealed, 
(I  didn't  see  how  it  could  harm) 

To  just  run  barefoot  in  a  field. 
Until  at  last  the  lady  said 
They'd  better  let  me  go  ahead. 

It  was  so  stubbully  that  each 

Poor  foot  got  hurtin'  right  away; 

Still  I  was  bound  that  I  would  reach 
A  haystack  an'  pertend  to  play. 

But  I  just  cried  against  the  stack 

For  somebody  to  fetch  me  back. 

My  brother  only  stood  an'  laughed ! 

I  might  uv  caught  my  death-o-cold 
Away  out  there  in  all  that  draught, 

'Cause  I  am  only  eight  years  old. 
But  sometimes  seems  zif  older  folks 
'L  laugh  at  things  that  isn't  jokes. 


139 


THE    FIRST   VALENTINE 

I'd  like  to  write  a  valentine — 
Not  like  the  kind  one  sees  about; 

It  mustn't  have  a  single  line 

That  folks  could  ever  tease  about. 

It  mustn't  be  all  hearts  and  birds 
rAnd  paper  lace — the  sissy  kind ; 

I  don't  want  any  silly  words — 
The  lovey,  dovey,  kissy  kind. 

But  certainly  it  mustn't  be 

A  cheap  and  common  penny  one, 
And  it  must  sort  of  make  her  see 

I  like  her  best  of  anyone ! 


140 


COUGHS 

They  say  little  boys 

Who  are  making  a  noise 

Are  doing  just  what  you'd  expect. 

But  I  wish  I  could  cough 

Without  starting  folks  off — 

It  has  a  most  dreadful  effect ! 

I  can  whistle  and  call, 

I  can  whoop  in  the  hall, 

I  can  pound  on  a  pan  with  a  stone, — 

And  the  folks  might  be  nice ; 

But  if  I  cough  twice 

Then  nobody  lets  me  alone. 

I  can  say  I'm  a  bear, 

I  can  growl  from  a  lair 

Or  make  different  sounds  in  my  play, 

But  if  air  makes  me  choke, 

Or  I  cough  for  a  joke, 

Why,  no  one  believes  what  I  say. 

Yet  everyone  knows 
That  a  tickle  just  grows 
With  maybe  no  reason  but  dust; 
141 


142  COUGHS 

And  times  when  you  swallow 

It  sticks  in  some  hollow, 

And  then  you  must  cough  or  you  bust. 

Though  I  say  what  I  choose, 

They  all  feel  of  my  shoes, 

Or  they  tie  an  old  scarf  round  my  chin. 

I  must  put  on  a  coat, 

Or  they  look  down  my  throat, 

And  tell  me  I  gotta  come  in. 

So  when  grown-ups  are  there, 

Why,  I  always  take  care, 

If  I'm  feeling  the  start  of  a  cough, 

And  I  bury  my  face ; 

Or  I  hurry  some  place 

Where  it's  safer  to  let  it  go  off. 


NURSES 

There  isn't  anythin'  that's  worse 
Than  for  a  boy  to  have  a  nurse. 
For  even  when  she  helps  y'  play, 
She's  alwuz  gettin'  in  th'  way; 
There's  so  few  things  she  understands, 
She's  just  a  bother  on  your  hands. 

I  learned  this,  cuz  a  boy  I  know 
Has  one  that  never  lets  him  go. 
First  time  we  met,  I  thought  that  such 
A  feller  wasn't  good  for  much. 
He  licked  me,  though,  an'  sat  on  top 
Until  his  nurse  she  made  him  stop. 

And  afterwards,  why  him  an'  me 
We're  just  as  friendly  as  can  be, 
An'  I  am  sure  that  nurse-girl  is 
His  parents'  fault  instead  of  his. 
They  ought  to  know  she  just  annoys, — * 
They're  awful  ignerunt  of  boys! 


RUNNED   AWAY 

Dear  Sis:  I  wrote  this  noat  to  say  Ive  ben  an 
gone  an  runned  away;  I  gess  the  fambily  Ive  got 
wunt  miss  me  such  a  nawful  lot,  cuz  yesterday  you 
no  I  had  a  nawful  wollupin  from  dad  an  nurse  she 
scolded  me  like  fun  fer  sumpthin  some  one  else  had 
dun.  Last  night  ma  sent  me  off  to  bed  before  Id 
got  a  chapter  read.  It  shows,  so  fur  as  I  kin  see, 
that  no  one  cares  a  rap  fer  me.  I  gess  that  I  aint 
understood  and  so  Ive  run  away  fer  good.  But  sis 
if  there  is  pie  to-day  fer  dinner,  snake  a  piece  away, 
and  bring  it  to  me  when  your  able,  youll  find  me 
hiding  in  the  stable. 


144 


GETTIN'    WASHED 

At  breakfast,  when  I'm  kinder  late  an'  hurry  to  my 

place, 
An'  wanter  eat,  some  person  says,  uOh,  what  a  dirty 

face!" 
Or,  "Leave  the  table  right  away,  those  hands  are  a 

disgrace!" 
When  I  come  back  all  nice  an'  clean  my  mother  says 

she  fears 
I  didn't  take  a  lot  of  pains  to  wash  behin'  my  ears. 

An'  lots  o'  times  when  I've  been  out  an'  haven't 

touched  a  thin' 
That  could  have  dirtied  me  a  bit,  why  someone's 

called  me  in — 
'Cause  what  they  went  an'  said  was  dirt  was  shad- 

ders  on  my  skin. 
But  s'pose  that  cedar  tree  I  climbed  did  leave  some 

teeny  smears, 
I  don't  see  how  a  bit  could  get  'way  up  behin'  my 

ears! 

Oh,  when  I'm  big,  without  a  nurse  or  grown-up  folks 

that  tease, 
Some  weeks  I'll  wear  my  oldest  clo'es  as  dirty  as  I 

please, 

i45 


i46  GETTIN'    WASHED 

An'  muss  my  hair  an'  have  big  holes  in  both  my 
stockin'  knees. 

Of  course  I'll  wash  each  mornin',  'cept  when  play- 
time interferes, 

But  you  just  bet  I'll  let  alone  that  place  behin'  my 
ears! 


THE    FLY    IN   THE   OINTMENT 

I  never  care  when  my  feet  are  wet, 
Though  grown-ups  worry  so ; 

I  never  trouble  how  cold  I  get, 
I'm  tougher  'n  people  know. 

And  the  coldest  kind  of  a  day  just  suits, — 

But  I  hate  when  snow  gets  into  my  boots. 

I  like  it  often  to  storm  and  blow, 

And  not  every  day  be  fair. 
I  run  and  jump  in  the  deepest  snow: 

When  a  snowball  hits  me  square 
I  ain't  the  kind  that  hollers  and  scoots, — • 
But  I  hate  when  snow  gets  into  my  boots. 

I'd  never  button  my  coat  at  all 

If  people  would  let  me  be. 
I  ain't  afraid  when  I  slip  and  fall 

In  snowdrifts  up  to  my  knee. 


148    THE    FLY    IN    THE    OINTMENT 

And  the  drifts  in  front  of  our  houses  are 

beauts ! — 
But  I  hate  when  snow  gets  into  my  boots. 


WHEN    DADDY    SINGS 

When  Daddy  sings  he  keeps  his  chin 

Pressed  tight  against  his  chest, 

And  just  before  the  folks  begin 

He  gives  his  voice  a  test, 

And  growls  uDo,  do"  first  high,  then  low, 

To  see  which  way  sounds  best. 

When  Daddy  sings  it  makes  him  frown 

Or  wrinkle  up  his  nose. 

He  waves  one  finger  up  and  down 

The  way  the  music  goes ; 

And  when  the  song  lasts  very  long, 

He  rises  on  his  toes. 

•"Black  Joe"  and  "Cradle  of  the  Deep"— 

He  growls  them  extra  strong. 

I  don't  know  why  he  cares  a  heap 

To  see  what  words  belong. 

He  just  sings  "Turn  ti  iddy  um" 

In  every  single  song. 


149 


PIRATE'S    CAVE 

Under  the  table,  when  dinner's  through, 

There  is  my  fav'rite  cave. 
My  sister  she  is  a  pirate  crew, 

An'  I  am  a  captain  brave. 
With  treasure  out  of  the  cookie  jar, 

And  plunder  from  other  lands, 
To  the  pirate  lair  that's  hidden  there 

We  creep  on  our  knees  and  hands. 

Before  the  people  get  up  to  go, 

Then  is  the  time  to  hide. 
I  whisper,  "Ho,  my  lads,  lie  low, 

There  are  foes  on  every  side!" 
And  then  I  thump  on  the  table  top, 

And  Papa  says,  "Hey !  What's  that?" 
And  another  thump  makes  Mother  jump 

And  guess  that  it's  just  the  cat. 

But  Papa  says,  when  I  thump  again, 

"P'r'aps  it's  a  pirate  bold!" 
And  his  legs  an'  feet  come  huntin'  then, 

A-tryin'  to  catch  a-hold; 
He  keeps  me  hurryin'  back  an'  forth 

Till  his  hands  come  huntin'  too, 
Then  I  sink  the  ship  when  I  feel  his  grip, 

And  Mother  she  gets  the  crew ! 
150 


DAYTIME    NAPS 

My  mother  thinks  that  little  chaps 
Who  play  a  lot  need  daytime  naps ; 
Though  I've  explained,  with  all  my  might, 
That  I  can't  sleep  except  at  night. 

But  sometimes,  when  I've  played  a  lot, 
I'd  jus'  as  liv  go  in  as  not; 
It  gives  her  quite  a  nice  surprise 
When  I  lie  down  and  shut  my  eyes. 

151 


152  DAYTIME    NAPS 

I  couldn't  get  to  sleep,  I  know ; 

But  for  a  little  while  or  so 

I  get  to  seeing  on  the  wall 

Queer  pictures  that  aren't  there  at  all. 

One  time  a  camel  stuck  his  head 
Right  close  up  to  me  on  the  bed, 
And  animals  I'd  seen  that  day 
Up  at  the  Zoo,  they  came  to  play. 

And  once  I  thought  of  curious  things 
That  I  could  do  if  I  had  wings. 
But  all  the  nicest  parts  of  it 
I  can't  remember  now  a  bit! 

I  think  so  hard  of  things  I'd  do, 
I  feel  all  stretchy  when  I'm  through, 
And  then  I  look  and  find  it's  been 
More'n  a  nour  since  I  came  in. 

It's  nice  to  lie  and  think,  perhaps; 
But  just  the  same  I  can't  take  naps ! 
(And  mother  says  she  sees  it's  true, 
But  thanks  me  just  for  tryin'  to.) 


TOP-TIME 

I  wisht  I  knew  what  makes  the  top-time  come 

Before  it's  gotten  over  bein'  cold; 
Sometimes  my  fingers  get  so  kinder  numb 

The  string  can't  help  from  comin'  all 

unrolled. 
I  like  a  top-string  better  when  it's  old, 

An'  then  I  tell  yer,  I  can  make  'er  hum ! 
I've  learnt  a  special  secret  way  t'  hold, 

By  pressin',  when  I  throw  'er,  with  my 

thumb. 
You  know  that  stubby  yeller  one  I  had  ? — 

It  split  ten  other  tops,  er  maybe  more — 
I  broke  it,  an'  I  tell  yer,  I  felt  bad  I 

But  now  she's  mended  better  'an  before. 
I  don't  see  why  our  cook  should  get  so  mad 

Each  time  I  spin  'er  on  the  kitchen  floor. 


KITE-TIME 

Last  night  me  an'  my  brother  made  a  kite — 

The  biggest  one  we've  ever  tried  to  do. 
Stood  up  on  end  'twas  more'n  twice  my  height 

(The  kind  that  has  three  sticks  instead  of  two) 

I  made  the  tail,  an'  'fore  I'd  gotten  through 
I'd  used  up  every  rag  there  was  ii\  sight. 

To  fly  her  'd  take  a  whoppin'  wind,  we  knew, 
And  then  to-day  it  came  exactly  right 
A  boughten  kite  may  have  a  neater  look, 

But  home-made  ones  are  mighty  hard  to  beat. 

This  big  one  nearly  dived  us  off  our  feet — 
'Twas  in  the  length  of  tail  we  were  mistook; 
An'  you  can  see  her,  any  time  you  look, 

A-hangin'  in  that  elm  tree  down  the  street. 


BALL-TIME 

This  week  it's  got  so  warm  that  I  have  been 

Without  my  overcoat  for  every  day. 
I  wisht  I  hadn't  promised  to  stay  in 

An'  study  for  an  hour,  instead  of  play. 

'Cause  with  the  window  up  a  little  way 
I  smell  the  grass  and  see  the  buds  begin. 

Our  clock's  a  lot  behind  time,  I  should  say, 
An'  studyin'  too  hard'll  make  me  thin ! 
I  hear  the  boys  outside  begin  to  call — 

They  want  me  for  a  game  of  two-old-cat 
I  guess  they  know  I've  got  a  brand  new 
ball;— 

It  isn't  me  they  want  so  much  as  that. 
I  bet  you  they  can't  borrow  it  at  all 

Unless  I  get  first  innin's  at  the  bat ! 


155 


SWIMMIN'-TIME 

It  was  so  hot  in  school  I  sat  an*  sweat, 

An'  thought  all  day  how  fine  a  swim  would  feel. 
When  time  was  up  we  didn't  wait,  you  bet, 

But  just  raced  out  here  an'  began  to  peel! 

It's  fun  to  hear  the  little  fellers  squeal 
Each  time  you  shove  'em  in  an'  get  'em  wet. 

Once  I  was  skeered  when  some  big  boy  would 

steal 

Close  up  behind — it  kinder  skeers  me  yet! 
But  anyhow  I  can  stay  under  more 

Than  any  boy  my  size — I  do  it  lots. 
It's  funny — an'  I've  noticed  it  before — 

Down  deep  the  water's  warm  an'  cold  in  spots. 
Hi  I  Hi,  there !   See  those  fellers  up  on  shore — 

They're  tyin'  all  our  stockin's  into  knots ! 
156 


NUTTIN'-TIME 

I  know  where  butternut  an'  shag-bark  trees 

Grow  thick, — an'  chestnuts  an'  sweet-acorns  too. 
Each  fall  we  go  there  an'  pick  all  we  please — 

We   take   our  lunch   an'   stay  the  whole   day 
through. 

Last  week  we  went  to  where  the  walnuts  grew, 
With  two  big  sacks  an'  filled  'em  at  our  ease. 

I  shinned  one  tree — that's  what  I  love  to  do ! — 
And  then  we  hunted,  on  our  hands  an'  knees. 
But  after  all,  the  part  I  like  the  best 

Is  when  the  sacks  have  gotten  pretty  fat, 
An'  some  one  says  it's  time  we  ought  to  rest 

An'  start  the  jam  an'  cookies  an'  all  that. 
This  time  it  kind  of  spoiled  my  interest 

To  find  a  chestnut  burr  just  where  I  sat. 


157 


SNOWBALL-TIME 

When  the  snow  first  comes,  so  fine  an'  thin, 

It's  good  for  snow  ice-cream;  an'  by-an'-by 
Some  evenin'  we  will  fill  a  heapin-  tin, 

And  drip  hot  syrup  in — oh  me,  oh  my ! 

Until  this  week  the  snow  has  been  too  dry, 
But  now  it  packs,  and  snow  fights  will  begin. 

We've  built  a  block-house  with  a  roof  so  high 
We  only  stoop  a  little  when  we're  in! 
I've  got  some  boots  that  come  above  my  knees — 

Last  winter,  too,  they  were  my  special  pride; 
I  plunge  through  any  snow-drifts  that  I  please, 

Or  climb  on  top  of  'em  an'  sit  an'  slide. 
But  Jimminy !  my  toes  begins  to  freeze 

If  ever  any  snow  gets  down  inside. 


158 


THE  SCAPEGOAT 

I'm  the  only  one  she  caught; 

It  was  Willie  cracked  her  winders, 
It  was  Jimmy  stole  the  vase 
Off  the  gate-post  at  her  place, 
Freddy  broke  it  all  to  flinders. 
It  was  Dick  and  Bud  that  fought, 

It  was  Sammy  Jones  that  sassed  her. 

There  was  nothin'  I  had  done, 
I  was  actin'  as  I  ought, 

But  we  all  began  to  run — 
And  the  rest  of  'em  ran  faster, 
I'm  the  only  one  she  caught. 

I'm  the  only  one  she  caught; 
Wisht  I  was  a  faster  runner. 
Now  she  says  she'll  make  of  me 
An  example,  so  that  we 
Won't  repeat  the  harm  we  done  her, — 
Says  it's  time  that  we  was  taught. 

Guess  they'll  wish  they'd  seen  me  through  it, 
Cause  they  know,  though  I  can't  run 
Quite  as  fast  as  p'raps  I  ought, 
I  can  lick  'em,  one  by  one ! 
I  bet,  next  time,  they'll  see  to  it 
It  ain't  only  me  that's  caught. 
161 


THE    WIND 

The  wind  it  rushes  in  and  out 
An'  makes  a  great  to-do, 

An'  little  leaves  leap  all  about 
To  tell  you  where  it  blew. 

Whenever  it  goes  racing  by 
It  pulls  my  clothes  and  hair; 

Some  places  it  will  sing  or  sigh, 
But  no  one  sees  it  there ! 

The  trees  are  p'raps  the  only  thing 

That  see  it  as  it  blows, 
For  they  all  lean,  an'  point,  an'  sing 

In  whispers,  "There  it  goes !" 


PRAYER   FOR   A   LITTLE   BOY 


lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  Thee,  Lord,  my  soul  to  keep. 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  Thee,  Lord,  my  soul  to  take. 
And  this  I  ask  for  Jesus'  sake. 

But  while  I  live  I  want  to  be  from  quick  and  angry 

passions  free, 
With  gentle  thoughts,  and  happy  face,  and  pleasant 

words  in  every  place. 
I  pray,  whatever  wrong  I  do,  I'll  never  say  what  is 

not  true; 
Be  willing  at  my  task  each  day,  and  always  honest  in 

my  play. 

Make  me  unselfish  with  my  joys,  and  generous  to 

other  boys; 
And  kind  and  helpful  to  the  old,  and  prompt  to  do 

what  I  am  told. 
Bless  every  one  I  love,  and  teach  me  how  to  help 

and  comfort  each. 
Give  me  the  strength  right-living  brings,  and  make 

me  good  in  little  things.  —  Amen. 


163 


THE  CAGED  COCKATOO 

"Perhaps,"  the  little  maiden  said, 
"A  lovely  Princess  would  not  wed 
Some  Genii  of  high  degree, 
And  now  she's  prisoned  in  a  bird 
Until  we  learn  the  magic  word, 
And  burn  her  plumes,  and  set  her  free." 

"Of  course,"  said  he,  "that  may  be  true, — 

But  p'raps  it's  just  a  cockatoo 

From  far-off  Africa  or  Spain; 

But  maybe,  on  its  ocean  trip 

It  travelled  in  a  pirate-ship 

Where  gold  was  hid  and  men  were  slain!" 


164 


THINGS   THAT   GET    LOST 

They  tell  me,  when  I  lose  a  thing, 

No  one's  at  fault  but  me ; 
It's  just  because  I'm  carelesser 

'N  what  I  ought  to  be. 
But  there  are  happenin's  that  show 

It  isn't  true  a  bit — 
'Cause  when  a  thing  gets  lost,  I  know 

It's  part  the  fault  of  it. 

'Cause  often  when  I'm  in  the  house 

For  just  a  little  while, 
I  put  my  cap  an'  ball  an'  such 

All  in  a  little  pile. 
Then  when  I'm  in  a  rush  to  go, 

And  hurry  right  to  where 
I  left  'em,  it's  most  always  so 

That  one  of  'em's  not  there ! 

And  while  we  hunt  with  all  our  might, 

The  thing  we're  looking  for 
Is  hid,  I'm  sure,  just  out  of  sight 

An'  laughin'  more  an'  more. 
'Cause  it  can  hear  us  goin'  wrong 

An'  sayin',  "Where  d'  you  s'pose 
That  old  thing  is?"    An'  all  along 

It's  happy,  'cause  IT  knows! 
165 


VACATION    IN    THE    COUNTRY 


If  I  lived  in  the  country  every  day 
Instead  of  only  when  vacations  come, 

Would  I  get  sunburned  so  that  it  would  stay, 
And  say  words  like  "I  recken"  and  uto 
hum"? 

Could  I  wear  one  suspender  if  I  chose, 
And  learn  an  awful  lot  of  useful  things, 

Like  how  to  pick  up  pebbles  with  my  toes, 
Or  tell  a  bird  from  just  the  way  it  sings? 

And  would  I  know  the  places  where  to  dive, 
And  all  the  quickest  cuts  across  the  lots? 
1 66 


VACATION    IN   THE    COUNTRY    167 

And  could  I  keep  some  snakes  and  frogs 

alive, 

And  would  my  feet  get  hard,  with  callus 
spots  ? 

Back  home  there  in  the  city,  there's  no  way 
To  learn  such  useful  things ;  so  I've  a  mind, 

Before  the  folks  all  start  to  go  away, 
To  find  some  place  to  hide,  and  stay 
behind. 


BUILDIN'    FIRES 

To  build  a  fire  is  better  fun 
Than  almost  anythin'  I  know. 

There's  certain  ways  it  should  be  done, 
Or  else  it's  likely  not  to  go. 

My  father  says  that  he  admires 

A  boy  that's  good  at  buildin'  fires. 

An'  in  the  diff'runt  ones  I've  tried, 
There's  lots  of  little  thin's  I've  learnt, 

Like  lightin'  from  the  windward  side, 
An'  how  to  bank  'er  when  she's  burnt. 

An'  how  to  make  the  smudges  thick, 

An'  when  to  poke  'er  with  a  stick. 

On  Saturdays  we  love  to  go 
And  do  like  tramps  or  Indians  do, 

An'  cook  an  ear  of  corn  or  so, 

With  frogs'  legs,  or  some  fishes  too. 

(The  nicest  food  that's  ever  cooked 

Is  veg'tubles  that  you  have  hooked.) 

A  fire  at  home  is  not  the  same; 

You  have  to  get  a  chair  an'  sit 
And  watch  a  kind  of  gentle  flame 

With  no  excitement  over  it. 
An'  grown-up  folks,  instead  of  you, 
Do  all  the  pokin'  there's  to  do. 
1 68 


REJECTED 

There's  a  nawful  pretty  teacher  at  our  school,  an' 
once  I  told  her 

That  I  thought  we  might  be  married  if  she'd  wait  till 
I  was  older; 

There  was  no  one  'cept  my  mother  that  I  liked  so 
well,  I  said. 

She  didn't  even  answer,  but  she  laughed  at  me  in- 
stead. 

She's  forgotten  all  about  it,  an'  it  seems  to  me  a  pity 
That  folks  what  are  so  cruel  should  be  made  so 

awful  pretty. 
But  I  guess  I'll  make  her  sorry  that  she  treated  me 

so  hard, 
If  I  do  what  I've  been  plannin',  an'  I  die  in  her  front 

yard. 


171 


OUR    GANG 

With  affectionate  apologies 

We've  got  a  gang,  and  I  belong, 
It's  active  all  the  year  around; 

We've  got  a  drum-corps,  twenty  strong, 
A  secret  club  and  camping  ground. 

And  then  of  course  we  have  a  yell 
That  we  can  whistle  low  or  hum, 

And  when  I  hear  it,  I  can  tell 
A  fellow's  calling  me  to  come. 

Wherever  it  might  be, 

I'd  answer  instantly, 

For  I  would  know  'twas  Dop  or  Al 
Or  Jinks  or  Don  or  Rob  or  Hal 

Or  all  of  'em  but  me. 

To-day  I  heard  my  mother  say 

How  very  greatly  she  enjoys 
A-seeing  with  me  in  my  play 

So  nice  a  lot  of  little  boys. 
But  when  I  told  'em  so,  they  guessed 

That  maybe  she  would  not  admire 
Us  all  so  much,  if  I  confessed 

That  we  had  set  some  woods  afire ! 
172 


OUR    GANG  173 

It's  really  true,  and  we 

Were  sure  as  we  could  be 

That  men  were  after  Dop  and  Lest 
And  Jinks  and  Buster  and  the  rest 

And  Don  and  Rob  and  me. 

But  later,  in  our  rondevoo — 

A  very  special  secret  one — 
We  talked  about  a  deed  or  two 

Of  mischief  we  had  lately  done 
And  then  and  there  we  all  agreed 

We  none  of  us  were  scared  a  bit ! 
We  planned  another  direful  deed, 

We  were  so  bold  and  desperit. 
We  named  us  the  M.D. 
And  swore  to  secrecy; 

The  members  we  agreed  upon 

Was  Al  an'  Dop  an'  Jinks  an'  Don 
An'  sev'ral  more,  an'  me. 

If  you've  no  gang  you  call  your  own, 

You're  someone  to  be  sorry  for. 
You  can't  do  direful  deeds  alone, 

And  keep  the  oaths  that  you  have  swore. 
I  know  some  secrets  dark  and  dread 

About  us  fellows,  every  one — 
But  I  won't  tell,  alive  or  dead, 

The  awful  deeds  I  know  they  done. 


174  OUR    GANG 

And  though  I  get  to  be 
A  grown-up  man,  you'll  see 
I'll  never  tell  on  Dop  or  Al 
Or  Jinks  or  Don  or  Rob  or  Hal 
Or  all  the  rest,  or  me ! 


SEWIN'    BUTTONS    ON 

Every  time  my  mother  sews 
Some  kind  of  button  on  my  clo'es, 
It  always  gives  me  a  surprise 
To  see  how  fast  the  needle  flies. 
In  buttons  all  the  difference  is, 

They  have  four  little  holes  or  two ; 
But  just  whichever  hole  she  says, 

She  makes  her  needle-point  come  through ! 
She  never  seems  to  aim, 
But  it's  always  just  the  same — 
It's  as  int'restin'  to  watch  her  as  'most  any  sort 
of  game. 

But  when  I  start  to  sewin1  one, 
Why,  just  as  soon  as  I've  begun, 
The  thread  gets  tangled  as  can  be, 
Or  keeps  a-gettin'  caught  on  me. 
An'  after  all  the  time  it  takes 

To  get  the  needle  goin'  some, 
It  hits  the  button  hard,  an'  breaks, 

Or  comes  one  side  an'  pricks  my  thumb. 
But  anybody  knows 
That  troubles  such  as  those 
My  mother  never  seems  to  have,  no  matter 
what  she  sews ! 

175 


176  SEWIN'    BUTTONS    ON 

An'  so  I  think,  when  I  have  grown, 
And  got  a  house  that's  all  my  own, 

An'  wife  an'  family  an'  such, 

If  I  lose  off  my  buttons  much 
I'll  have  my  mother  always  there 

To  sew  'em  on  for  me  again ; 
Unless  she  thought  she  wouldn't  care 

To  be  so  very  busy  then, 
Or  somethin'  else  occurred 
That  she  thought  that  she  preferred — 
But  she  says  it  is  the  nicest  plan  she  ever, 
ever  heard  1 


DRESSIN'   UP 

It's  fun  up  in  the  attic,  when  mother  lets  us  'splore 
In  all  the  trunks  an'  boxes  there  an'  litter  up  the  floor — 
She  tells  us  we  may  try  things  on  if  we  won't  get  'em 
tore. 

An'  sometimes  we  play  grown-up  folks  in  big  oF- 

fashioned  clo'es; 
Or  sometimes  dress  up  fancy  ways  an'  play  we're 

givin'  shows, 
An'  charge  ten  pins  admission,  an'  all  the  fam'bly  goes. 

But  when  we  find  ol'  things  of  mine  we  rig'em  up  on  sis, 
An'  p'rade  around,  an'  daddy  says,  "Whose  little 

chap  is  this?" 
An'  mother  says,  "Dear  little  boy!"  an'  asks  her  for 

a  kiss. 

But  when  me  an'  my  sister  put  her  skirts  an'  stuff  on  me, 
I  notice  no  one  seems  to  think  'at  it's  a  girl  they  see ; 
But  the  women  say  "My  Gracious !"  an'  the  men  folks 
sayuOhGee!" 

177 


"HEAR    MY   DOLLIES'    PRAYER" 

0  Lord,  I  pray  Thee,  hear  my  dollies'  prayer, 
And  teach  them  how  to  ask  for  what  is  right ; 

But  if  it's  going  to  give  You  extra  care, 
Then  You  might  skip  my  blessings  for  to-night. 

Please  make  them  all  more  loving  and  polite ; 
I  pray  Thee  not  to  let  their  covers  tear, 

But  keep  their  sawdust  stuffings  out  of  sight, 
And  please  help  Anne  to  grow  a  head  of  hair. 

1  wish  poor  Bella's  knees  were  made  to  bend, 

I  truly  am  as  sorry  as  can  be. 
I  hope  that  You  won't  mind,  and  that  You'll  send 

The  blessings  that  each  dolly  asks  of  Thee. 
And,  Lord,  I  pray  that  You  will  just  pertend 

This  is  my  dollies  talking,  'stead  of  me. 


178 


ANTHROPOLOGY 

I  love  my  ordernery  dolls  the  best 

Of  any  kind  that  ever  could  be  bought. 

No  foreign  doll  that  Santy  ever  brought 
Is  near  so  nice,  no  matter  how  she's  dressed. 
I  hope  my  Chinese  doll  has  never  guessed 

That  I  don't  love  him  half  of  what  I  ought! 

I  take  good  care  to  see  that  he  is  taught 
His  lessons  oftener  than  all  the  rest. 

I  wish  the  Dolly-maker  would  begin 
To  mend  his  ways ;  I  would  if  I  was  he ! 

'Cause  if  the  dolls  that  have  a  yellow  skin 
Are  heathenish  inside  as  they  can  be, 

Just  think  how  sensibuller  he'd  have  been 
To  make  'em  all  Americans  like  me. 
179 


THE    MISSIONARY'S    DAUGHTER 

I  haven't  sewed  my  children's  clo'se 
For  days,  the  way  I'd  like  to  do ; 

I  don't  neglect  'em,  goodness  knows, 
'Cept  when  it  is  my  duty  to; 

They're  less  important,  anyhow, 
'Cause  I'm  a  missionary  now. 

My  heathen  doll's  not  half  so  dear 
As  all  my  Christian  children  there, 

And  that's  what  makes  my  duty  clear 
To  always  give  him  speshul  care ; 

'Cause  I  have  found  it  wrong  to  do 
The  things  I'm  always  wanting  to. 


1 80- 


MENDING    DAY 

How  quickly  children's  clothes  will  rip  and  tear! 

Each  time  I  put  off  mending  till  so  late, 
I  re'lize  that  a  family  of  eight 

Can  give  a  loving  mother  lots  of  care. 
If  more  get  born  I  really  do  declare 

I'll  put  'em  into  bed  and  make  'em  wait. 
My  brother  hopes  to  learn  to  operate, 

But  there  is  not  a  child  that  I  would  spare. 

He's  borrowed  three  that  he  pertends  are  dead. 

But  I  won't  even  think  of  such  a  thin' ! 
And  yet  at  mending  time  I've  often  said 

I  almost  wished — though  p'raps  it  is  a  sin — 
That  God  had  sent  some  paper  dolls  instead 

Whose  clothes  are  only  painted  on  their  skin. 
181 


AT   THE   AQUARIUM 

Fishes  swimming  in  and  out 

Till  my  eyes  grow  dizzy, 
What's  the  task  that  you're  about, 

Keeping  you  so  busy? 

Are  you  meant,  as  people  say, 
Just  to  throw  a  hook  at, — 

Or  be  brought  from  far  away, 
For  us  all  to  look  at? 

Dogs  and  horses  know  my  words, 
Cats  are  warm  and  homey; 

Cows  and  mice  and  even  birds 
Sometimes  get  to  know  me. 

Yet  you  stare  with  not  a  wink, 

Seeming  not  to  see  me. 
Are  there  thoughts  we  both  can  think,- 
Something  strange  and  dreamy? 

I  may  puzzle  you  as  much ! 

And  I  wonder  whether, 
When  I  see  your  noses  touch, 

You  all  talk  together. 
182 


AT   THE   AQUARIUM 

There's  another  world,  it  seems, 
That  you  drift  and  dart  in, 

Full  of  ways  and  deeds  and  dreams 
I  can  have  no  part  in. 


183 


THE   ASSISTANT 

I've  learnt  to  sift  the  flour  in,  and  the  way  it  ought 
to  mix, 

And  I  know  that  more  is  needed  if  the  stuff  is  soft 
and  sticks. 

I'm  not  just  sure  of  all  the  things  you  need  for  mak- 
ing dough, 

But  that's  the  sort  of  kind  of  thing  a  man  don't  have 
to  know. 

Cook  says  I'm  such  a  help  to  her  that  every  day  she 
wishes 

I  could  be  there  advising  her  and  licking  off  the 
dishes. 


184 


UNREST 

The  motorman  bangs  on  his  noisy  gong 

And  grins  at  folks  as  he  whoops  along, 

Or  stops  up  quick  to  jerk  us: 
Wish  't  I  was  him !    But  I'd  like  it  more 
As  a  druggist-clerk  in  a  city  store, 
A-mixing  soda  and  fizz  and  pop, — 
Or  I'd  be  the  help  in  a  candy  shop, 
Or  one  of  the  boys  to  mind  the  bell, 
In  a  uniform  in  a  big  hotel 

If  it  didn't  over-work  us ! 
Or  I'd  be  a  tramp,  'cause  his  folks  don't  care 
If  he's  washed  his  face  or  has  brushed  his  hair; 
Or  else  be  a  missionary,  so 
That  I  could  get  foreign  stamps,  you  know : 
But  best  of  all  I  would  like  to  go 

And  be  a  clown  at  a  circus. 
There's  other  things  I  might  like  to  be — 
I  know  I'm  tired  of  being  Me ! 


DANDELION 

Dandelion,  Fuzzy-top,  must  I  stop  my  play? 
Do  you  s'pose  my  mother  thinks  I'm  too  long  away? 
I  had  planned  a  lot  of  things  I  must  do  to-day. 
I  was  chasing  butterflies  when  you  made  me  stop. 
People  say  you  are  so  wise,  Fairy  Fuzzy-top ! 

Dandelion,  Fuzzy-top,  won't  you  tell  me  true  ? 
Must  I  hurry  home  again,  'fore  my  play  is  through? 
Seems  as  if  I  had  about  a  million  things  to  do ! 
Sunny  days  are  all  so  short, — and  that  is  why,  you 

see, 
I've  really  got  to  know  at  once  if  mother's  wanting 

me. 


1 86 


HANGING   THE    STOCKINGS 

Christmas  eve!     It's  Christmas  eve! 

Supper's  cleared  away, — 
Seems  as  if  I  can't  believe 

That  to-day's  to-day ! 
— I  don't  see  a  thing,  do  you, 
We  can  hang  a  stockin'  to? 

For  a  month  or  just  about, 

Days  would  hardly  stir, 
Though  I  crossed  their  places  out 

On  the  calendar. 
— Pins  or  nails'll  never  stick 
In  this  hard  old  chimney  brick. 

P'raps  as  soon  as  night's  begun 

He'll  come  stealing  in ! 
My !    It  makes  the  shivers  run 

Up  and  down  my  skin. 
— Mayn't  I  pound  a  nail  up  here 
In  the  woorwork,  Mother  dear? 

Daddy's  sock'll  never  do, — 
Not  a  toy  would  fit. 
187 


i88       HANGING   THE    STOCKINGS 

S'pose  we  let  him  stand  his  shoe 

Just  in  under  it? 

•. — There!   They're  done.   I'm  sleepy,  some. 
Bet  to-morrow'll  never  come ! 


EVENINGS 

On  cold,  dark  winter  evenings, 

outdoors  a  wind  storm  sings ; 
You  hear  a  window  rattle 

and  a  dead  limb  creaks  and  swings, 
And  grown-ups  sit  around  the  fire 

and  talk  of  diff  runt  things. 
But  I  just  fool  around  and  grin, 

it  feels  so  nice  and  snug, 
Till  pretty  soon  I  go  and  get 

my  favorite  book,  and  lug 
It  near  the  fire,  and  stretch  out 

on  my  stomach  on  the  rug. 
Then  by  and  by  my  mother 

raps  her  thimble  on  my  head 
And  says,  "Why,  boy,  it's  getting  late! 

Come,  run  along  to  bed." 

Evenings  in  the  summer, 
when  it's  just  as  light  as  day, 

With  chirpy  noises  in  the  trees, 
and  sounds  from  far  away, 

And  a  sort  of  warm  and  grassy  smell 
that  makes  you  want  to  play; 
189 


190 


EVENINGS 

Why,  then  the  boys  come  chasing  round 

and  whistle  at  the  gate, 
And  I  slip  off  before  I'm  seen, 

or  mother  hollers  "Wait! 
Go  get  your  hat,  and  promise  you'll 

be  back  before  it's  late!" 
Those  summer  nights  it's  father  who 

gets  after  me  instead, 
And  calls  me  through  the  darkness, 

"Boy!    Skip  right  along  to  bed." 

I  think  the  morning's  pretty  long, 

especially  in  school ; 
And  afternoon  has  time  enough 

to  suit  me,  as  a  rule; 
But  evenings  they  are  always  short, 

in  winter,  spring,  or  fall, 
And  every  time  of  year  I  like 

the  evenings  best  of  all. 


ECONOMISIN* 

Dad  was  tickled  when  I  went 
Once  and  whispered  in  his  ear 

That  I  wouldn't  spend  a  cent 
Buyin'  him  a  gift  this  year. 

I  would  build  a  fine  surprise 

All  myself,  and  ' conomise. 

So  I  went  and  bought  a  saw — 

Not  a  toy,  but  good  and  strong, — 

And  a  hammer  with  a  claw 

For  the  nails  I  hammer  wrong. 

I  am  sure  he'll  like  this  more 

Than  a  present  from  a  store. 

Then  Dad  bought  some  fancy  wood 
When  I  asked  him,  though  I'm  sure 

If  he's  'quisitive  he  could 
Guess  I'm  makin'  furniture. 

If  he  does,  I  needn't  care, 

For  he'll  never  guess  a  chair! 

And  I  went  and  bought  a  bitt — 
Makes  holes  any  size  I  choose : 

Lots  of  fixin's  come  with  it 
That  I'm  learnin'  how  to  use. 
191 


i92  ECONOMISIN* 

P'raps  for  Christmas  time,  next  year, 
I  could  make  a  chiffonier. 

'T  won't  be  long  before  it's  done, 
Now  I've  boughten  tools  enough; 

Buyin'  cushions  will  be  fun, 

And  some  paint  and  varnish  stuff. 

He'll  be  deeply  touched,  I  know, 

At  my  'conomisin'  so. 


AFTER    SCHOOL 

It's  strange  to  think  how  much  may  come  from  just 
a  little  thing ; 

Just  as  they  tell  you  mighty  oaks  from  little  acorns 
spring. 

My  Grandpa  says  a  kettle  once  boiled  up  a  bit  too 
free 

And  if  it  hadn't,  so  he  says,  there'd  not  be  any  Me ! 

Then  Grandma  lays  her  knitting  down,  and  says  in 
tones  severe, 

"Don't  talk  such  nonsense  to  that  child, — his  bed- 
time's very  near." 

"Why,  I  remember,"  Grandpa  says,  "as  if  't  was 

yesterday, 

That  kettle  setting  on  the  stove  and  bubbling  away, 
While  twenty  pairs  of  youngsters'  eyes  would  watch 

it  dance  and  hum, 
Instead  of  conning  alphabets  or  figgering  a  sum. 

"Then  suddenly  I  recollect  that  kettle  lid  went  pop! 
And  water  ran  all  down  the  stove  as  if  't  would  never 
stop; 

193 


194  AFTER    SCHOOL 

And  two  young  people  laughed  out  loud,  which  was 

against  the  rule, 
And  so  the  master  chided  'em  and  kept  'em  after 

school. 

"Now  one  of  those  young  laughers  was  a  very  shy 

young  lad, 

And  't  other  was  a  little  girl, — the  prettiest  they  had. 
Hey,  Grandma !     'Member  how  the  boys  all  waited 

on  the  fence?" 
"I  didn't  hear  you,"  Grandma  says.     uWhy  don't 

you  talk  some  sense?" 

"Ah  me,"  says  Grandpa,  "there  they  sat  about  an 
hour  or  more, 

While  that  young  lad  scraped  courage  up  he'd  never 
had  before, — 

And  wrote  it  down  in  billy-dous, — he  must  have  writ- 
ten reams, — 

While  Master  polished  up  the  stove  and  maybe 
dreamed  his  dreams. 

"Ah  me,  that  little  school  is  gone,"  says  Grandpa, 
sighing  hard; 

"The  woodland  path  they  used  to  tread  is  now  a 
boulevard. 

'T  was  close  to  ninety  years  ago."  Cries  Grandma, 
"Sakes  alive, 

You  ought  to  really  be  ashamed,  't  was  only  sixty- 
five!" 


AFTER  SCHOOL  197 

"Ah  well,"  says  Grandpa,  "those  two  chicks  walked 

hand  in  hand  that  day, 

It  grew  to  sech  a  habit  that  they  couldn't  break  away. 
And  then  she  married  him.     Just  why,  I've  often 

wondered  sence, 
With  all  the  other  boys  in  town  a-waiting  on  the 

fence. 
I  guess  she  mightn't,  if  she'd  known  he  wasn't  very 

rich!" 
And  Grandma  says,  "Oh,  go  to  bed, — I've  dropped 

another  stitch  I" 


A    NEWSBOY'S    PLAINT 

Some  fren's  o'  mine  is  tryin'  hard  ter  put  me  on  de 

queer — 

De  doctor  wat  dey  sent's  a  nervey  bloke; 
Says  'e,  "Yer  need  de  country — I  ferbid  yer  stayin' 

'ere!" 

I  tell  yer  straight,  I  t'ought  it  was  a  joke. 
Dere   ain't   no    finer   paper-route    from    Bronx   ter 

Chat'am  Square — 

'Taint  like  I  was  a  cully  shinin'  shoes ! 
Who's  he  wid  his  'forbiddin'?     Now  gwan  an'  quit 

yer  kiddin' — 
Aw,  cheese  "it!     'Ere's  a  cove  dat  wants  de  news! 

Pa — a — peh ! 

Won"  an'  de  Joinal!    Times  an'  de  Sun! 
Press  or  de  Heral' !     Hi— Wich  one? 
Mo — o — nin'  pa — a — peh!     Loidy,  'ere  y'  uh, 
A — a — 11  a — bout  de  moider — Buy  a  papeh,  Suh? 
Dere's  trees  an'  grass  a-growin'  in  mos'  all  de  city 

parks, 

De  same  as  in  de  country,  so  dey  say; 
Y'   hear   about  de   crowin'    of   de  roosters   an'   de 

larks — 

I'd  jus'  as  liv  get  woke  some  udder  way! 
198 


A   NEWSBOY'S    PLAINT  201 

Me  fren'  wot  runs  de  book-store,  he  lets  me  monkey 

round, 

An'  I  see  dem  country  t'ings  m  picter-books — 
An'  I've  frequent  seen  a  chicken  dat  de  butcher-boy 

was  pickin', 
An'  dere's  often  cows  a-hangin'  up  on  hooks. 

pa_a_peh ! 

Woil'  an'  de  Joinal !    Times  an'  de  Sun  1 
Press  or  de  Heral' !     Hi— Wich  one? 
Mo — o — nin'  pa — a — peh !    Loidy,  'ere  y'  uh, 
A — a — 11  a — bout  de  moider — Buy  a  papeh,  Suh? 

I  need  de  country  air,  'e  saysr    Aw  rats,  dat  ain't 

a  mark 

Ter  wat  I'd  n'eed  up  dere  widout  de  boys ! 
Dey  say  dere  ain't  no  'lectric  lights — at  night  de 

place  is  dark — 

Dere  ain't  no  cops — An'  say  I  Dere  ain't  no  noise! 
Says  'e,  "I  wouldn't  give  so  much  fer  wat  yer  life  is 

wort'  I" 

Fergit  it!     I  ain't  askin'  'im  ter  give. 
Who  wants  ter  stay  a-stewin'  in  a  place  where  not- 

tin's  doin'? — 
I  want  ter  do  some  livin'  wile  I  live. 

Pa— a— peh ! 

WoiP  an'  de  Joinal!    Times  an'  de  Sun! 
Press  or  de  Heral'— Hi— Wich  one? 
Mo — o — nin'  pa — a — peji!    Loidy,  'ere  y'  uh, 
A — a — 11  a: — bout  de  moider — Buy  a  papeh,  Suh? 


AMBROSIA 

I  have  sipped  and  supped  and  tasted 

Of  the  food  a  poet  sings ; 
Rare  exotic  fauna,  basted 

By  some  chef,  the  peer  of  kings. 
Cloyed,  I've  thrown  aside  or  wasted 

Nectar  and  ambrosial  things. 

Though  I  sit  amid  the  gleam  of 

Damask,  broadcloth,  shimmering  silk,- 

Crystal  bowls  that  hold  the  cream  of 
Nature's  stores  of  every  ilk; 

Oft  in  yearning  mood  I  dream  of 
Boyhood's  bowl  of  bread-and-milk! 


202 


SCEPTICS 

When  your  old  dad  was  as  little  as  you 

Was  he  likely  to  do 

What  they  wanted  him  to? 
Why,  certainly  so !    And  as  quick  as  a  wink 
He  did  as  they  bid  him  before  you  could  think. 

Hey!    Hey? 

What  do  you  say? 
What  makes  you  keep  winking  and  grinning  that 

way? 
Your  uncle's  been  "tellin'  you  sumthin'  "?    Dear, 

dear! 
You  mustn't  believe  all  the  stories  you  "hear. 

When  dad  and  his  playmates  were  nice  little  boys 

The  first  of  their  joys 

Was  giving  their  toys 

To  poor  little  children  who  needed  them  more ; 
Your  dad  was  so  good  he  gave  all  of  his  store. 

Hey!    Hey? 

What  do  you  say? 

Your  mother  has  some  of  'em  now,  put  away? 
Such  nerve  was  unknown  in  my  day ! — I'll  be  bound 
You  imps  have  been  snooping  and  prying  around. 
203 


204  SCEPTICS 

When  daddy  was  young  he  was  deaf,  dumb,  and 
blind 

To  pranks  unrefined; 

He'd  a  serious  mind. 

He  paid  no  attention  to  girls  and  their  looks, 
But  gave  all  his  time  to  his  tasks  and  his  books. 

Hey!     Hey? 

What  do  you  say? 

Yes,  mother  was  raised  in  the  very  same  way. 
You  found  an  old  letter  and  read  it? — My  Scat! 
We  used  to  spank  children  for  mischief  like  that. 


THOSE   WILFUL   TOYS 

My  house  is  quite  full  of  such  curious  things. 

There  are  blocks  that  have  feet,  there  are  books  that 
have  wings; 

And  dolls  that  can  walk,  and  two  old  Teddy-bears 

With  legs  that  can  carry  them  up  and  down  stairs. 
And  Polly's  not  sure,  and  Jimmy  can't  say 
Just  how  they  were  made  in  this  curious  way. 

We  stand  each  book  nicely  away  on  the  shelf, 
But  somehow  it  seems  to  get  down  by  itself. 
And  toys  that  we  put  every  day  in  their  place 
All  scamper  about  till  they're  quite  a  disgrace. 
And  Polly  can't  say,  and  Jimmy  don't  know 
Just  why  we  should  find  them  wherever  we  go. 

This  morning  I  called,  in  a  voice  loud  and  clear, 
So  even  the  toys  in  the  attic  could  hear, 
"If  you're  all  in  your  places  at  bedtime,  I  might 
Bring  home  something  good  in  my  pockets  to-night." 
And  Polly  don't  know,  and  Jimmy  can't  say, 
But  they  think  that  the  toys  are  quite  sure  to  obey. 


205 


ACCOUNTING    OF   STOCK 

Come  here,  little  girl,  come  here ! 

Your  daddy  has  serious  fears 
That  no   one  took  care,   when   combing  your 
hair, 

To  see  what  became  of  your  ears. 
Why,  bless  me !     I  shouldn't  have  said 
There  was  one  on  each  side  of  your  head! 

But  p'raps  it  is  done  that  way,  for  the  fun 

Of  hearing  two  secrets  as  easy  as  one! 

Come  here,  little  girl,  come  here ! 

Your  daddy  is  anxious  to  see 
If  that  nose  is  in  place  on  your  dear  little  face 

Just  where  it's  intended  to  be. 
Dear,  dear,  it's  too  round  at  the  end ! 
But  that'll  be  easy  to  mend, — 

A  little  girl's  nose  grows  just  where  it  grows 

So  it'll  be  easy  to  pinch,  I  suppose. 

Come  here,  little  girl,  come  here ! 

Your  daddy  with  trouble  is  tossed. 
It's  ages  since  he  has  counted  to  see 

That  none  of  your  toes  have  been  lost. 
206 


ACCOUNTING    OF   STOCK          207 

Thank  goodness !  there's  ten  of  'em  here, — 

There  was  no  occasion  for  fear. 

But  everyone  knows  a  little  girl's  toes 
Should  all  hurry  with  her  wherever  she  goes. 

Come  here,  little  girl,  come  here ! 

And  cure  your  poor  daddy's  alarms. 
He  really  can't  say,  from  so  far  away, 

If  you've  got  the  right  number  of  arms. 
What!    No  more  than  two?    Is  that  right? 
They  ought  to  be  fastened  in  tight. 

But  two  isn't  bad, — and  I'm  specially  glad 

They're  so  well  adjusted  for  hugging  your 
dad! 


A   TOAST 

Toast  a  tyrant  band, — skoel  in  sacred  chorus ! 
Slaves  to  our  command, — czars  who  trample  o'er  us. 
Devotees  of  wrath;  source  of  half  our  troubles; 
In  whose  cyclone  path  cost  of  living  doubles. 
Harmless  as  the  doves;  butts  of  fierce  invective; 
Life's  true  spice,  and  love's  unconfessed  objective. 
Gods  of  our  best  selves,  bidding  us  confess  'em; 
Fairyland's  true  elves, — To  Our  Kids,  God  Bless 
'Em! 


208 


AMBUSHED 

Peace  and  safety  seem  to  dwell 

Where  my  garden  grows; 
I've  no  moat  nor  citadel 

Where  I  find  repose. 
Yet  I  dread  the  sudden  yell 

Of  some  lurking  eager  foes ! 

Silence  bids  me  feel  secure, 

As  I  wander  out. 
Weeds  and  worms  and  bugs  obscure 

Are  the  foes  I  rout. 
Yet  a  premonition  sure 

Warns  that  redskins  are  about! 

Hark !  a  hoot-owl — 't  is  the  cry 

Indians  used  of  yore. 
Stealthy  footfalls,  creeping  nigh, 

Thrill  me  to  the  core. 
Late  1  Too  late !  They've  scurried  by, 

Gaining  first  my  open  door. 

Savage  redskins,  bent  on  loot, 

Start  with  gingerbread; 
Victors  now  beyond  dispute, 

They  will  scalp  me  dead. 
Indians,  if  you  really  shoot, 

You'll  be  spanked  and  sent  to  bed. 
209 


THE   POOH-POOH   BIRD 

You've  often  heard 
The  Pooh-Pooh  Bird,— 
Don't  hesitate  to  take  my  word ! 
Yet  like  myself  you've  never  seen  it, 
For  human  gaze  would  but  demean  it. 

To  hide  from  sight 

Is  its  delight, 

And  so  it  mostly  flies  by  night, 

And  all  its  life  its  chief  of  joys  is 

To  frighten  folks  with  spooky  noises. 

When  lamps  are  lit, 

And  lone  you  sit 

A-watching  firelight  shadows  flit, 

Some  creaky  sound  will  set  you  squirmin', 

Whose  whereabouts  you  can't  determine. 

*T  is  thieves  perhaps — those  furtive  taps ! 
Hark — there  again!     Your  courage  saps; 
'T  is  now  upstairs,  and  now  the  basement, 
And  now  outside  against  the  casement. 
210 


THE    POOH-POOH    BIRD  211 

But  take  my  word, 

Those  sounds  you  heard 

Are  nothing  but  the  Pooh-Pooh  Bird, 

Who  flits  for  fun  'round  silent  houses, 

And  some  lone  watcher's  fear  arouses. 

If  you  would  fright 

This  bird  to  flight, 

Just  cry  "Pooh  Pooh !"  with  all  your  might. 

You'll  find  your  courage  quite  recovered, 

And  he  will  flee  when  thus  discovered. 


SPIRITS 

See  that  apple,  ripe  and  ruddy, 
There  on  yonder  lofty  shelf 

In  the  corner  of  my  study 
I  can  scarcely  reach,  myself. 

Only  yesterday  I  bought  it, 

Tempted  by  its  rosy  glow; 
Though  my  little  ones  besought  it, 

'T  was  intended  just  for  show. 

They  are  babes  so  frail  and  tender, 
They're  so  innocent  and  young; 

Who  could  but  be  their  defender 
'Gainst  malicious  slander's  tongue ! 

On  the  cheek  of  yonder  apple 
There's  a  scar  that  lately  came. 

Oh  for  wisdom  fit  to  grapple 
With  the  question — Who's  to  blame? 

There  are  little  tooth-marks  in  it, 
Yet  it  has  not  moved  at  all. 

I  was  absent  scarce  a  minute — 
They're  so  innocent  and  small ! 
212 


SPIRITS  213 

Can  it  be  that  spirits  haunt  us, 
Leaving  tooth-marks  here  and  there? 

Playing  idle  pranks  to  taunt  us, 
Marking  footprints  on  a  chair? 

They  are  babes  so  frail  and  tender, 

Far  too  wee  for  sin  or  guile ; 
Who  could  but  be  their  defender? 

I  must  ponder  for  a  while. 


..• 


OLD    VALENTINES 

Tiny  maids  with  sunlit  hair; 

Sombre  elves  with  eyes  cast  down; 
Princess  dainty,  debonnaire; 

Auburn  tresses,  gold,  and  brown. 
Some  were  gay  and  some  were  grave; 

Shyly  swayed  by  blame  or  praise ; 
Others  ruled  their  willing  slave 

With  their  tiny  tyrant  ways. 
Time  has  blent  them  all  for  me 
In  one  golden  memory. 


214 


AN    OLD    CHRISTMAS    CAROL 

Oh  wake  ye,  little  children, 

And  be  of  goodlie  cheer. 
Yon  sun  so  high  along  the  sky 

Hath  shone  two  thousand  year. 
And  once  it  saw  a  little  child 
In  manger  lying  undefiled, 
And  all  about  the  cattle  mild 

Did  lovingly  draw  near. 
So  wake  ye,  little  children, 

And  be  of  goodlie  cheer. 

Oh  wake  ye,  little  children, 

And  let  each  heart  be  gay. 
Good  Will  to  Men  they  carolled  then, 

And  why  should  ye  delay? 
Awake,  awake,  and  rise  and  sing, 
And  greet  ye  every  living  thing, 
For  man  and  beast  did  greet  your  King 

On  that  first  Christmas  day! 
Then  wake  ye,  little  children, 

For  this  is  Christmas  day. 


215 


WHEN   THE    CHILD    IS    KING 

Babe,  so  long  ago  enshrined 

In  a  stable  bare  and  gray, 
Something  of  Thy  sweeter  mind, 
Of  Thy  love  for  all  Thy  kind, 

Rules  us  on  Thy  natal  day. 
And  because  a  shepherd  band, — 

Sages,  too,  with  gifts  in  train, — 
Knelt  and  kissed  a  baby  hand, 
Yearning  for  some  wee  command, 

So  to-day  a  child  shall  reign. 


216 


SANTA    CLAUS 

Jingle  of  bell  and  clattering  hoof 
And  shouts  borne  down  the  blast, 

And  muffled  sounds  from  the  snowy  roof 
While  the  winter  wind  sweeps  past; 

And  sleepy  eyes  grow  big  and  round, 

And  breaths  are  hushed  at  each  mystic  sound 
While  childish  hearts  beat  fast. 

The  flick' ring  flames,  as  they  crack  and  glow, 

Peep  up  the  chimney  wide, 
And  whisper  then  to  the  ghostly  row 

Of  stockings  side  by  side. 
The  eight-day  clock,  where  it  stands  in  state, 
Holds  fast  its  breath  in  the  silent  wait 

For  the  king  of  Christmas-tide. 
217 


2i 8  SANTA    CLAUS 

The  days  slip  by  of  those  happy  times; 

The  paths  we  trod  of  yore 
To  the  fairyland  of  the  nurse's  rhymes 

Are  barred  by  a  closing  door. 
And  we  smile  at  the  tales  of  a  year  ago 
As  childhood's  truths  into  fables  grow; 

And  lost  is  our  goblin  lore. 

But  yet  to-day  from  the  mantel-shelf 
The  stockings  greet  our  eyes, 

And  our  faith  in  the  jolly  Christmas  Elf 
On  firm  foundation  lies. 

For  we  see  in  merry  lurking  there 

A  father's  love  or  a  mother's  care 
Hid  under  the  quaint  disguise. 


FATHER    SPEAKS 

Merry  Christmas,  one  and  all! 

What  a  sunny  holiday ! 
Eat  our  breakfast  in  the  hall? 

Just  exactly  as  you  say. 
Move  that  tree  a  little  bit, 
I  keep  falling  over  it. 

Children,  show  me  all  your  toys, 
There  is  room  to  spread  them  here. 

Yes,  that  is  a  jolly  noise, — 
Hold  it  further  from  my  ear ! 

Don't  restrain  'em,  let  'em  play, 

Christmas  is  the  children's  day. 

Just  the  things  you  want  have  come? 

Queer  how  Santy  seems  to  know ! 
Yes,  old  fellow,  pound  your  drum, 

You  may  smash  it  sooner,  so. 
What?    More  slippers  for  your  dad? 
That  makes  seven  pairs  I've  had. 

Mary,  give  that  child  a  lift, 
Those  are  my  cigars  he's  on. 

Postman  calling  for  a  gift? 

'Fraid  that  my  last  cent  has  gone. 
219 


220  FATHER   SPEAKS 

Don't  you  think  it  would  be  wise 
Next  month  to  economize? 

Turn  that  baby  up-side-down ! 

See — he's  swallowing  a  wire  1 
Hello,  Uncle !     You  in  town  ? 

Help?  the  Christmas  tree's  on  fire! 
Bring  some  water  right  away! 
Whoop,  Hurrah !    It's  Christmas  day. 


A    MILK   TOAST 

Come,  fill  your  glasses  brimming  up 

And  raise  them  overhead! 
I'll  pledge  a  toast  before  I  sup, 
So  hasten  with  the  foaming  cup, — 

It's  nearly  time  for  bed ! 

I  sing  not  of  the  ruby  wine, — 

My  years  do  not  allow; 
Though  grown-ups  praise  the  fruitful  vine, 
Clink  glasses  to  this  toast  of  mine, — 

Long  live  the  Mooley  Cow  I 


221 


A    RONDEAU    OF    BABIES 

As  you  must  know,  some  men  there  be 
Who  like  to  hint  that  they  are  free 
From  nurs'ry  thralldom,  so  they  cry, 
(As  though  to  prove  an  alibi) 
"All  babies  look  alike  to  me." 

To  such  a  man  the  Fates  decree 
The  storks  shall  come  in  groups  of  three,- 
It  does  no  good  to  hide  or  fly, 
As  you  must  know ! 

All  babies  look  alike? — Ah  me, 
When  they  arrive,  I  well  foresee 
He'll  gain  a  more  discerning  eye, 
Or  else  he  will  discreetly  try 
With  wiser  persons  to  agree, — 
As  you  must  know. 


222 


THE   WORLD    IS   SO    SMALL 

The  world's  a  very  little  piace, 
And  part  of  it  is  walls  and  floors, 

And  part's  a  pleasant  sunny  place 
They  call  "outdoors." 

They  sometimes  wheel  me  up  the  street 
When  all  the  world  goes  out  to  walk, 

And  everybody  that  I  meet 
Talks  baby-talk. 

The  sun  behaves  in  just  the  way 
To  most  oblige  a  little  tot; 

It's  daylight  till  I'm  through  my  play, 
And  then  it's  not ! 

The  raindrops  never  seem  to  fall 
In  any  place  where  I  may  go. 

The  world  must  truly  be  quite  small 
To  suit  me  so. 


223 


AFRAID 

Little  noises  do  not  bite ! 

Darkness  will  not  harm  you ! 
See,  my  arms  will  hold  you  tight 

When  wee  fears  alarm  you. 

Wise  ones  say  I  do  you  wrong 
Facing  dangers  for  you ; 

You  will  not  grow  brave  and  strong 
With  me  bending  o'er  you. 

But  the  time  is  all  too  brief 
When  some  pain  or  other, 

And  each  baby  fear  and  grief 
Drive  you  to  your  mother ! 


224 


NAMING   HIM 

You'd  think,  while  they're  trying  to  find  me  a  name 
That  I'd  have  a  right  to  a  part  in  the  game ! 
Throjugh  most  of  the  morning  my  father  has  said 
Just  nothing  but  Aaron,  while  mother,  instead, 
Would  settle  her  family  name  on  my  head ; 
Meanwhile  they  forget  that  I  haven't  been  fed! 


225 


THE    INTERPRETER 

I  cannot  talk  the  grown-up  way, 

To  tell  them  all  I've  thought  and  planned; 
And  nearly  all  that  grown-ups  say 

I  do  not  plainly  understand. 

But  every  little  murmuring  breeze, 
Or  sounds  that  whisper  in  a  shell, 

Or  leaves  that  rustle  on  the  trees,— 
I  understand  them  all  quite  well. 


226 


A    BUSY    MORNING 

One  morning  mother  had  to  be  away 
And  nurse  forgot  me  for  a  little  while; 

Oh,  when  I  get  to  thinking  of  that  day 

I  lie  quite  still  and  shut  my  eyes  and  smile. 

Then  grown-ups  say,  "He  sleeps,  the  little  dear! 

And  dreams  an  angel  whispers  in  his  ear." 

It  really  isn't  often  such  a  chance 
Can  come  to  such  a  little  chap  as  me. 

To  get  away  from  every  watchful  glance 
And  just  start  out  to  see  what  I  can  see ; 

To  feel  of  things,  and  pound  with  all  my  might, 

And  learn  which  ones  to  break  and  which  to  bite. 

It's  true  I  often  wish  I  hadn't  tried 
To  see  just  what  was  in  that  little  jug; 

I  spoiled  a  dress  that  was  my  special  pride, 
And  made  a  dreadful  black  spot  on  the  rug. 

It  wasn't  all  my  fault,  for  I  should  think 

A  tippy  table  was  no  place  for  ink. 

One  memory  I  always  shall  enjoy, 

Though  I  was  spanked  for  doing  it,  alas ! 

I  pounded  hard  that  other  little  boy 
Who  made  up  faces  at  me  from  a  glass. 
227 


228  A    BUSY    MORNING 

He  frowned  and  stuck  his  tongue  out,  and  it's  true 
That  those  are  things  no  proper  child  should  do. 

It's  strange  that  in  the  rooms  where  grown-ups 
stay 

There  should  be  such  a  lot  of  useless  waste; 
So  many  things  that  are  no  good  for  play, 

And  almost  nothing  that  is  good  to  taste. 
And  everywhere  there  is  so  much  you  find 
That  gets  you  into  trouble  of  some  kind. 

It  isn't  fair  that  they  should  always  keep 
The  nicest  looking  things  so  out  of  reach. 

The  road  to  some  is  very  long  and  steep, 
But  on  that  day  I  got  a  chance  at  each. 

And  so  I  lie  and  dream,  and  smile  and — wait. 

I've  had  one  day  of  life,  at  any  rate. 


HER   GIFT 

Her  eyes,  Her  mouth,  Her  chin,  so  strangely  small, 
Her  very  hands,  in  such  frail  likeness  made, 

That  one  caress  it  seems  might  crush  them  all, 
And  so  I  gaze,  and  wonder,  half  afraid. 

So  wee  a  gift — yet  wealth  of  many  lands 
Could  never  buy  it  in  the  richest  marts  I 

So  frail  a  gift — and  yet  those  baby  hands 
Take  mighty  hold  upon  two  human  hearts. 


229 


FORTIFIED 

Little  dear  heart,  tiny  wonderer, 

With  round  eyes  that  search  clean  through  one, 
Little  tender-fisted  sunderer 

Of  my  old  world  and  my  new  one, — 
Whence  the  sunbeam  warm  that  dances 
In  those  mirthful  baby  glances? 

If  that  other  world  endowed  thee 

With  a  soul  of  crystal  clearness, 
When  our  dullened  earth  has  cowed  thee 

With  its  mortal  burden's  nearness, 
Who  am  I  to  give  thee  training 
To  withstand  a  life's  explaining? 
230 


FORTIFIED  231 

Even  now  I  see  an  answer 

In  the  little  arms  upflinging, 
In  thy  dimples,  wee  entrancer, 

And  thy  blithesome,  wordless  singing. 
Love  and  gentleness  and  joying 
May  withstand  old  Earth's  annoying. 

Though  this  life's  thick  fogs  be  clouding 

Recollections  of  some  other, 
May  no  mist-bank  e'er  come  crowding 

'Twixt  thee,  wee  one,  and  thy  mother. 
Hers  the  gifts  for  thy  preserving : 
I  but  hope  to  share  in  serving  1 


A   BABY   AT   THE    PARTY 

I  found  one  night,  when  I  awoke, 
They'd  brought  me  down  the  stair 

To  show  me  to  some  noisy  folk 
Who  were  all  eating  there. 

Such  silly  things  they  did  and  said, 

I  cried  the  louder  for  my  bed. 


232 


BABY'S    FIRST    CHRISTMAS 

They  took  away  my  bottle 

And  they  gave  me  toys  and  drums,- 
I  wonder  do  they  act  like  that 

Whenever  Christmas  comes? 
I'm  glad  it's  only  once  a  year 

They  make  such  noises  in  my  ear. 


333 


WHEN    GRANDMA    COMES 

There's  never  any  noise  or  fuss 
When  Grandma  comes  to  visit  us. 
She  always  knows  just  what  to  do, 
For  me  and  for  my  mother  too. 
And  it's  so  peaceful  here  at  rest 
All  snuggled  up  against  her  breast. 


234 


BOOKS 

The  rows  of  letters  on  the  page 

Can  talk,  for  grown-ups  tell  me  so; 

But  pictures  tell  me,  at  my  age, 

Quite  all  the  things  I  need  to  know. 

But  when  there  are  no  pictures  there, 
(And  many  books  are  made  that  way) 
I  open  pages  anywhere 

And  guess  at  what  the  letters  say. 


235 


THE    LONELY    BABY 

Whose  dolly  is  you? 

Dearie  me !    I  declare 
Your  eyes  are  tipped  up  and  they've  pulled 

out  your  hair ; 
And  your  snub  little  nose,  and  your  fingers 

and  toes 

And  your  curious  clo'se 
Kind  of  frighten  me,  too ! 
Whose  dolly  is  you? 

Whose  dolly  is  you? 

Dearie  me!    Can  it  be 

They  are  tired  of  dollies,  'way  over  the  sea  ? 

Does  nobody  care  for  a  baby  out  there, 

But  cuddles  a  bear 

Or  a  doggie  or  two  ? 

Whose  dolly  is  you? 

Whose  dolly  is  you? 
Did  they  send  you  to  me 
'Cause  they  know  I'm  as  lonesome  as  lone- 
some can  be? 

I'd  like  to  have  dollies  like  me,  for  a  while, 
But  I've  gone  out  of  style, — 
I'm  nobody's,  too ! 
Whose  dolly  is  you  ? 

236 


INCONSISTENT 

They  say  I'm  a  darling,  and  Joy-of-the-House, 

They  call   me   their  Precious,   and   Ducky,    and 
Lamb; 

I'm  Bunny,  and  Honey,  and  Dear  Little  Mouse, 
And  nothing's  too  good  for  me,  imp  that  I  am. 

My  fingers  and  toes  are  so  chubby  and  fat, 
My  nose  is  so  dear,  and  my  hair  is  like  silk, — 

But  if  they  do  love  me  as  much  as  all  that, 
Why  can't  I  have  sugar  in  my  bread  and  milk? 


237 


FIRST   STEPS 

Like  a  desert  vast  and  cheerless 

Stretch  the  nurs'ry  lands. 
Who  could  gaze  with  vision  fearless 

O'er  those  trackless  sands? 
Though  there  waits  a  shelter  peerless — 

Mother's  reaching  hands ! 

Eyes  alight  with  exultation, 

Lips  that  shape  a  shout; 
Just  a  fluttering  hesitation, 

Just  a  sigh  of  doubt. 
Dare — and  launch  a  generation ! 

Sturdy  legs,  step  out ! 


238 


BABY'S   EYES 

* 
Wise  is  the  baby  with  eyes  of  brown, 

Clenching  each  little  hand; 
Wrinkling  its  forehead  into  a  frown, 

Trying  to  understand. 
Sweetest  and  wisest  in  all  the  town, — 
Thoughtful  baby  with  eyes  of  brown. 

Mischievous  baby  with  eyes  of  blue, 

Laughing  at  other  folk; 
Planning  and  plotting  the  whole  day  through 

Some  little  baby  joke. 
Laughing  and  happy  and  clever,  too, — 
Mischievous  baby  with  eyes  of  blue. 

Calm  is  the  baby  with  eyes  of  gray, 

Sweet  little  stay-at-home. 
Near  to  the  mother  in  work  and  play, 

Never  will  care  to  roam. 
More  of  a  comfort  from  day  to  day, — 
Calm  little  baby  with  eyes  of  gray. 
239 


240  BABY'S   EYES 

Wilful  the  baby  with  eyes  of  black, 

Ruling  us  more  and  more. 
Sunbeams  follow  the  storm-cloud's  track 

Brighter  than  those  before. 
Heart  is  fonder  when  smiles  come  back, — 
Wilful  baby  with  eyes  of  black. 


A    LULLABY 

Lie  still,  my  little  one,  shadows  are  falling, 
Closing  thy  wide-open,  wondering  eyes; 

Hark  how  the  voices  of  dreamland  are  calling 
Sweet  to  my  little  one  here  where  she  lies. 

Hushaby,  baby  mine,  shadows  grow  deep; 
Shut  those  blue  eyes  of  thine,  lie  still  and  sleep. 
Naught  is  affrighting  thee,  dreams  are  inviting 

thee, 
Mother  is  near  to  thee — sleep,  darling,  sleep. 

What  dost  thou  see  in  thy  faraway  gazing? 

What  dost  thou  say  in  that  cooing  of  thine  ? 
In  thy  strange  tongue  is  it  wisdom  amazing, 

Wise  little  visitor,  baby  of  mine? 

Raindrops  are  pattering,  lull  thee  to  rest; 
Birds  are  all  scattering  each  to  its  nest. 
Darkness  enfolding  thee,  mother  is  holding  thee, 
Angels  are  guarding  thee — rest,  darling,  rest. 

Drowsy,  my  little  one?    Twilight  is  darkening, 
Birds  are  all  twittering  sweetly  good  night; 

Whisper  thy  dreams  to  me,  mother  is  hearken- 
ing, 
Listening  over  thee,  clasping  thee  tight. 

241 


242  A    LULLABY 

Lullaby,  little  one,  sweet  be  thy  sleep ; 
Hushaby,  pretty  one,  slumbering  deep. 
Darkness  may  cover  thee,  angels  watch  over 

thee, 
Mother  is  near  to  thee — sleep,  darling,  sleep. 


AT    ONE    WEEK   OLD 

He  will  be  straight  and  strong  and  fair, 
With  eyes  that  have  a  laughing  flash; 

A  rumple  always  in  his  hair, 

And — if  he  likes — a  short  mustache. 

His  voice  must  be  a  grumbly  bass, — 
With  nearly  all  his  father's  charm. 

And  when  we  stroll  about  the  place 
I'll  love  to  lean  upon  his  arm  I 

And  when  he  marries  some  nice  girl — * 
Oh  me !  he'll  do  it  soon,  I  fear — 

I'm  sure  she'll  love  the  little  curl 
Like  that  behind  his  daddy's  ear! 


243 


UNFULFILMENT 

I  see  an  upland  pasture,  clover-blown, 

Where  grave-eyed  cattle  graze  the  meadow-side; 
And  in  the  wavy  blot  of  shade  a  lonely  tree  has 
thrown, 

A  little  boy  lies  dreaming,  open-eyed. 
And  something  in  the  fair-gowned  buckwheat  fields, 

And  in  the  hill  lined  out  against  the  sky, 
And  in  the  kindly  spreading  tree  a  subtle  bondage 
wields ; 

I  look — and  lo !  the  little  boy  is  I. 

Afar,  blue  peaks  that  one  time  edged  the  world — 
White  clouds — a  boyhood's  realm  of  Maybe-so ; 

And  from  the  deeps  of  memory  a  tapestry's  unfurled 
Pf  small  boy  visions,  woven  long  ago. 
244 


UNFULFILMENT  245 

And  years  and  deeds  went  always  hand  in  hand. 

In  those  fair  pictures.    Yet  to-day  there  seems 
A  small  voice  crying  sorrowf'ly  from  sky  and  clover- 
land 

That  I  am  not  the  figure  of  the  dreams. 


THEN   AND    NOW 

1  can  remember,  in  the  long  ago, 

How,  when  the  evening  shadows  slowly  grew, 

I  nestled  closely,  as  I  loved  to  do, 
And  begged  a  story  in  the  twilight  glow. 
But  when  those  mother  accents,  sweet  and  low, 

Began  some  bed-time  tale  all  strange  and  new, 

I  cried — Not  that  one !    Let  me  listen  to 
The  one  you  told  last  time — the  one  I  know. 

Was  I  so  different  in  the  days  of  yore? 

I  sit  and  dream  anew  the  joys  of  old, 
Crying  to  Fate  to  send  them  back  once  more, 

Distrusting  what  the  future  may  unfold. 
Tho'  sweet  the  hope  be  of  what  lies  before, 

Sweet  is  the  mem'ry  of  the  tale  that's  told! 


246 


LITTLE  BOY  REALM 

Little  Boy  Realm  is  far  afield, 
And  blind  is  the  road,  they  say; 

But  the  King  and  Queen,  by  the  power  they 

wield, 
May  lead,  or  may  bring  away. 

Kindly  firm  is  the  royal  rule, 

Kind  are  the  kingly  eyes; 
And  day  by  day  sees  gentler  sway 

'Neath  sunny  boyland  skies. 

But  wander-spirits  calling  us, 

Or  sunbeams  ling' ring  fond 
On  some  vague  peak,  roused  us  to  seek 

A  path  to  the  beyond. 

That  loving,  kingly  hand  reached  out 

To  shoulders,  level  high ; 
Some  spark  there  ran,  as  man  to  man, 

And  boyhood's  realm  flew  by  I 
•  ••«.• 

Gently  sweet  is  the  gracious  Queen, 
Love  dwells  within  her  eyes; 
247 


248  LITTLE  BOY  REALM 

And  day  by  day  she  toils  away 
To  weave  some  new  surprise. 

Her  little  kingdom  brooks  no  change ; 

Though  some  may  roam  afar, 
Its  hearth-fires  burn  against  return, 

And  every  door's  ajar. 

A  tired  head  against  her  knees, 
Dear  chidings,  grave  or  gay, 

And  'neath  her  hand  this  grown-up  land 
Slips  suddenly  away. 

Little  Boy  Realm  lies  toward  the  dawn, 
But  the  highway  none  may  know; 

And  oh,  if  the  King  and  Queen  be  gone, 
How  then  may  I  come  and  go? 


REVISITING 

If  one  clear  road  you  cannot  find, 

Since  they  two  laid  their  scepters  down, 

Some  fainter  paths  there  are  that  wind 
Through  valleys  to  a  far-off  town, 

Where  many  dear-remembered  things 

Call  childhood  back  on  certain  wings. 

That  wall  you  climbed  with  all  your  might, 
The  while  you  tore  your  stocking  knees, 

Has  shrunk  to  such  a  puny  height 
You  mount  upon  its  crest  with  ease. 

The  tree  that  was  too  thick  to  "shin" 

By  some  odd  means  has  gotten  thin. 

That  vast  expanse  you  scanned  with  care, 
Then  crossed  with  frightened  hurrying  feet 

Lest  traffic  overtake  you  there, 
Is  now  a  quiet  village  street. 

Each  doorway  wide  and  gatepost  high 

Seem  smaller  to  your  startled  eye. 

Old  friends  that  pass  look  up  to  smile, 
Who  used  to  greet  you  smiling  down ; 

A  magic  spell,  in  this  long  while, 
Has  somehow  fallen  on  the  town. 
249 


250  REVISITING 

Yet  strange !    You  seem  to  be  again 
As  small  a  boy  as  you  were  then. 

The  little  tree  that  once  was  tall, 

The  quiet  street  that  stirred  your  fears; 

Your  little  boyhood's  kingdom  small 

Have  drawn  you  backward  through  the  years. 

And  some  old  teacher's  kindly  tone 

Belies  his  words — "How  you  have  grown!" 

The  winding  path  to  boyhood  days 

Is  sometimes  very  hard  to  find; 
And  yet  you  trod  it  when  your  gaze 

Survey  old  scenes  long  left  behind. 
While  strangers,  passing,  never  guessed 
The  rising  turmoil  in  your  breast. 


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MOV    5 

SEP  29  1930 

m 

«£C.  WM.    FEB  2  0  1980 


50?n-7,'27 


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